


Illumination

by loveyhowl



Category: The Borgias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:05:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 97
Words: 317,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyhowl/pseuds/loveyhowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi To Everyone,</p><p>To all you who graced my story with a read, a kudo, a comment--a moment of your precious time--I'm sorry.  I messed up big time.  I updated my story this past weekend and was working on another project; Sunday night I pulled an all-nighter before work.  As I was proofreading the chapter I discovered that I had a duplicate chapter posted (wondered why the count was off-duh!)  Because I was delirious from lack of sleep and brain-addled, I deleted my entire work instead of the duplicate chapter!  I'm posting a new chapter and the one before it because I don't have time yet to get all 88 back up (especially with needing to make the necessary HTML changes.  I can't believe I did that--great way to start Monday morning, huh?  I'm sorry.  To any new readers who might want to read the previous chapters, this story is also posted at FanFiction.net at:</p><p>https://www.fanfiction.net/~loveyhowl</p><p>Without further ado, here are Chapters 87 and 88.</p><p>**Update**  01/2016</p><p>Dear Readers,</p><p>Happy New Year to everyone here at A03!  I hope that it will be a bright and prosperous one for everybody!</p><p>I am in the slow process of re-posting the previous chapters of the story and hope to finish within the next few weekends.  To everyone who honored me by hanging in with my story, thank you so much.   Every read, kudo and encouraging comment has been appreciated more than you will ever know.<br/>lh</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Illumination

**Author's Note:**

> Hi To Everyone,
> 
> To all you who graced my story with a read, a kudo, a comment--a moment of your precious time--I'm sorry. I messed up big time. I updated my story this past weekend and was working on another project; Sunday night I pulled an all-nighter before work. As I was proofreading the chapter I discovered that I had a duplicate chapter posted (wondered why the count was off-duh!) Because I was delirious from lack of sleep and brain-addled, I deleted my entire work instead of the duplicate chapter! I'm posting a new chapter and the one before it because I don't have time yet to get all 88 back up (especially with needing to make the necessary HTML changes. I can't believe I did that--great way to start Monday morning, huh? I'm sorry. To any new readers who might want to read the previous chapters, this story is also posted at FanFiction.net at:
> 
> https://www.fanfiction.net/~loveyhowl
> 
> Without further ado, here are Chapters 87 and 88.
> 
> **Update** 01/2016
> 
> Dear Readers,
> 
> Happy New Year to everyone here at A03! I hope that it will be a bright and prosperous one for everybody!
> 
> I am in the slow process of re-posting the previous chapters of the story and hope to finish within the next few weekends. To everyone who honored me by hanging in with my story, thank you so much. Every read, kudo and encouraging comment has been appreciated more than you will ever know.  
> lh

Cesare waited in the next room for his sister to administer a deadly potion to her husband that would put him out of his misery. Time passed and he realized that all was too quiet; he wondered why Lucrezia had not returned to tell him, at least, that the deed was done.

He went to her bedchamber and saw her slumped over her dead husband and immediately feared the worst; he leapt onto the bed, across his dead brother-in-law's body, and, in a panic, tried to rouse her, fearing that she had done the unthinkable.

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia!"

"I will never wash this blood away..." she moaned weakly at him.

"Then I must..." he told her then. He propelled himself away from her and then returned with a cloth and a bowl of water; he ministered to her then, speaking softly and with comforting resolve as he began to wipe the blood gently from her face. "You will be naked...clean...bloodless again—and mine..." he promised her and then took her into his loving embrace.

"Cesare..." she said his name as if in a fever.

"Sister, why would you do this?" he murmured into her neck as he stroked her hair.

"Because we are doomed," she whispered her declaration at him.

"Don't say that—I love you."

"And I, you, my love. But it is true."

"No—I won't believe that..." he said then, his voice raw and full of defiance.

"Of course you won't—you are a man, Cesare; full of pride and ambition-you are destined to break my heart, brother." Lucrezia's voice was full of exhaustion; when Cesare rose up to look into her eyes they seemed fixed on something far away from them both.

"This is not you, sis; you are a Borgia—you're stronger than this," he leveled at her. "You're in shock...you have been through too much—you are not yourself...I must take you away from here..." he made to pick her up and carry her away but she put her hand to his arm to still him, then looked very definitely into his eyes.

"This is me, Cesare. And I am tired, so very tired; of being my father's pawn; of always saying goodbye to you. If I could I would go with you; fight with you...but what would that net me in the end? A golden cage, like the Tigress chained below the Basilica? The world is not ready for her; and I would be her, if I could; but the world is not ready for me, either. This world of man is ready for no woman who is as strong as he is."

"But you are strong—you are a wonder—you are the woman that I love, Lucrezia...you are so loved..." Tears began to form in the corners of his eyes as he tried desperately to stave them away.

"Then love me now," she begged him softly.

"Not like like this...not like this..."

"Yes, like this. I have seen things, brother, as I lay here praying for death and deliverance from my heartbreak; deliverance from this prison—the kingdom—our father endeavors for himself that would entomb us and only serve to make our love more impossible than it already is. I have seen my destiny...and yours. All we've ever had are moments...and we've wasted so many—I will not commit that crime now...please...do not ask that of me..." she finished through trembling lips and her own silent, freely-flowing tears.

"Lucrezia..." he whispered her name tormentedly then buried his face in her soft golden hair.

"I lied to this poor boy, dead beside me now—you are, and always have been—the joy and love of my life, Cesare; the only one who would dare to try and understand me; love me as I really am. Take me away from here and love me now, for the last time..."

"No, not the last time..."

"Yes, brother, the last time; whether it be an hour of loving or days, there are simply not enough left to us; but of what there is I want to be consumed by you; I want to be free to be overwhelmed by you and return my favor to you in kind, for your next campaign will take you away from me forever."

Cesare rose up from her then sat beside her and took her into his arms. "What is this destiny of which you speak, sis?" he asked her, his voice sounding almost angry. He took her chin into one hand and tilted it to make her eyes meet his. "That you would have the gift of Divinity would surprise me not—but tell it to me, this destiny, so that I may make it ever lead to you..." he shook her gently, hoping that it would help to dislodge the truth from her even as he was afraid of what that truth could be.

"I can only tell you, my love, as much as I would have that be our reality, as much as I desire that wish...our destinies will never be thus..."

"No..." he hugged her to himself desperately.

"You know this deep in your heart, Cesare; it is no matter of Divine Illumination—it is simply a truth; to see it all you need do is open your eyes, brother, as I have done." She reached for him, at last, and cradled him in her embrace. "Take me from here and bathe me; cleanse me; and then let us exorcise this curse that is our love for one another and send it out of our souls so that we may both survive each other; for I took no poison, my love, to die alongside this boy; there is no poison greater...more potent...than my love for you, Cesare Borgia, and it is that which is killing me now and nothing else."


	2. Ministry

Cesare lifted his sister gently from the bed and carried her to an empty suite; he laid her down upon a settee in the anteroom between the bedchamber and the bathing room then rang for a servant.

"Yes, my Lord," came the frightened voice of the Orsini housemaid, who had dared to look upon Lucrezia surreptitiously as she curtsied before him and was stunned to see the girl covered in so much blood.

"Draw a bath..." came his coarse, gruff command, which yanked her abruptly out of her curiosity and drew her eyes back to him and him alone. "And fetch me her nursemaid—quickly!" he ordered her.

"Yes, my Lord..." she said through trembling lips. She hurriedly went to the bathing room and lit a fire in the fireplace, then retrieved two buckets; she left the pair then to retrieve the Lady's nursemaid on the way to the kitchen. Presently Giovanni's nurse entered the room.

"My Lord! Is she alright?" said the alarmed woman as she took in the sight of her mistress.

"Prince Alfonso has been delivered from his pain, at last. Take Giovanni away from here, to my mother's palace; Lucrezia is inconsolable, at present, and I will not have her leave this place until she is well enough to travel home—tell my mother that. Have a carriage readied this instant and go tonight."

"Yes, my Lord..."

"Fetch the doctor on your way and send him to me; and send with him a sheet of Lucrezia's parchment...a quill and her wax seal...hurry..."

"Yes, my Lord..." The nursemaid then scurried away.

He went to his sister then and knelt down before her. "Did you hear that, sis?" he said after he'd taken her hand and kissed the back of it with sweet reverence. "I am sending Giovanni home to our mother, my love; and I have summoned the doctor and will have Alfonso properly seen to, and make the preliminary preparations for his...for him. Lucrezia?" The housemaid rushed past them with the first buckets of water for warming over the fire. "Lucrezia, do you hear me?" he whispered softly at her.

"I hear you, brother...thank you..." she whispered back at him tiredly.

"Before your tub is filled I shall be back..." He shot dangerous eyes then at the housemaid, who'd dared to look at them as she passed by to go and fetch more water. "On task, girl," he barked at her viciously. The girl ran out. "After the appropriate arrangements have been made I shall dispense with all but the most necessary of staff, my love, and we will be alone—until Alfonso's requiem mass." He gave a gentle kiss to her cheek as the doctor entered the room.

"Your Excellence," the doctor bowed his head and handed him the items sent to him by the nursemaid.

"Prince Alfonso..." Cesare took the doctor's arm and led him away from earshot of his sister, "...has died and his body must be seen to."

"Of course, Your Excellence. I shall see to him immediately."

Cesare went to a desk in the bedroom and began to write out a note as he directed the doctor to task. "Take his body to the Vatican and prepare it there."

"But Your Excellence," the man began uncomfortably, "his body must be prepared, right away—there is no time..."

"Is it not winter? Surely his body will keep well enough during the short distance from here to the Holy City."

"But, it can be done here and then..."

"And I would _not_ have it done here," Cesare's voice was full of threatening menace. He finished writing out his note to his father, then went to the fire in the bathing room to ready the wax for affixing. When the note was properly sealed he gave it to the doctor. "Give this note to Pope Alexander when you arrive at the Vatican, straight away. Now, take the Prince and be on your way," he ordered him.

"Yes, Your Excellence," the befuddled man bowed nervously at him and hastily took his leave.

Finally the tub was filled; Cesare had dismissed all staff save for the cook and his young apprentice.

He stood before his two uneasy charges in the kitchen. "You will only come when called," he told them when the others were all gone. "If anyone knocks upon the door you will not open it; instruct any who dares to leave a message. I do not anticipate that we will be here much longer than a week. If you are not preparing a meal then you will keep to your quarters. Am I understood?"

The old cook and the young boy at his side both nodded fearfully at him. Cesare took his leave.

When he returned to his sister at last he found her in a fitful sleep as she lay upon the settee.

"Sis...sister, wake up my love... it is time for your bath..." he said lightly as he knelt before her.

"Cesare...such awful dreams..." she moaned at him.

"Hush, now, you are awake," his soothing voice washed over her. "Your tub needs only one more bucket of warm water—come with me..." He took her to the bathing room and set her at the window seat across from the tub then poured another bucket of warm water into it. He went to Lucrezia then and undressed her slowly, reverently, as she helped him with the many difficult buttons and ties. Finally she was naked and being escorted to the tub; he assisted her as she stepped in and when she was submerged in the hot, soothing water she let out a gasp off surrender: to the heaven that was the healing water that welcomed her skin; to her brother's tender touch as he anointed her with the first gentle dab of the washcloth to her bloodied face; to their shared destiny, no matter how brief; to their love for each other, that would never die.

Her bath was a silent affair, peppered only with her intermittent sighs of relief, relishing her brother's tender ministrations as he washed her alabaster skin cleaner with every swipe of the cloth. Too bad the blood had soaked into her very soul, she lamented silently to herself. She smiled at the thought of her Cesare then, whom she knew that, if he could, would wash her soul clean, as well. As she took her comfort in that thought Cesare noticed her smile.

"Hold your head back," he commanded her as he poured a fresh warm bucket of water through her golden locks. "Sis, that smile on your face is a welcomed sight—I would know what it is that has caused it, for I would have more of them."

"It is you that makes me smile thus, brother, surely you know that. Only you," she said as she looked up at him, her eyes burning with her love and yearning for him.

Cesare dropped the bucket and hugged her to him as he buried his head into the crook of her shoulder; she raised a hand out of the water and held on to him.

"I am as clean as you can possibly make me, brother," she said after she settled a gentle kiss upon his arm. "The water is growing cold..."

"Then I shall warm you up..." he growled his love at her. He scooped out of the tub then and brought her to standing upon the floor; on his knees behind her he began to towel her body dry, starting with her legs as he alternated the dabs of the soft towel with kisses upon her body that were even softer; he worked his way up her calves, then her back of her thighs, then held her hips in his firm grasp as he lingered at her perfect backside, where she suffered a kiss and a teasing, possessive little bite to each cheek.

"Oh, Cesare," a gasp escaped her, " you would torment me this way?"

"No, sis—this is a promise, not a torment..." he moaned into the small of her back, as he held on to her, as if for dear life itself.

He abandoned his campaign to dry her body and rose to face her, then took her into his fierce embrace.

"Are you really ready for this, sis? I know that you truly grieve your husband and..." His voice was raw, full of desire but also his truest concern; Lucrezia put a finger to his lips and stilled his tongue.

"How is it that you make me love you even more than I already do?" she asked him incredulously, the wonder of him reflected back at him in her sparkling, tear-brimmed eyes. "I have been ready for you all of my life, brother—I would have nothing deny me you at this moment."

Cesare swept her up then and carried her to the bed.

It was Lucrezia's turn then to undress him and the removal of each article of his clothing was a delicious adventure in anticipation. When he was naked at last he took her into his favorite position, with her astride his lap. They nuzzled each other as they always did before they kissed, with playful, reassuring love bites infused with the promise of gentleness; a prelude to the ferocious all-consuming love that lurked so dangerously under the surface of all of their skin-to-skin contacts.

"You are mine, Lucrezia..." he moaned into her neck as he slipped her onto himself, like the glove that she was.

Lucrezia took his face into her hands and looked him deeply in his eyes."Yes, Cesare, until the day that I die..." she moaned ecstatically back at him.

Hours later they lay exhausted in each others embrace.

"That was good brother, but..."

"But? But! Why, you little imp..." Cesare shot up and took her roughly across his lap.

"Oh! Stop!" she pleaded through her giddy giggles.

"You've had so much experience that you have criticisms, sister?" he gave her beautiful rump a playful swat.

"That's just it, brother...oh! Do stop!" she laughed as he swatted her again. "Aside from you I've only ever been a boring little missionary girl—can you teach me more?"

"Ah...it is an education that you desire," he pulled her up to face him and Lucrezia blushed. "What is this? She blushes?" he smiled his intrigue at her.

"An education I desire from you alone. Would you deny me?" she asked him seriously then.

"No...no," he said awkwardly, almost taken aback by her candid and serious demeanor. "What is it that you desire to learn?"

"Well, I hardly know that's why I'm asking," she responded frustratedly. "I would know every way there is to pleasure you brother, as a real woman."

"You are a real woman, sis; and you already pleasure me in every way possible...simply because you exist..." he murmured at her then took her neck into his hand roughly, as if he would choke her, but kissed it sweetly instead.

"I've heard the sounds you've made in the arms of other women, Cesare, and I have thus far elicited no such sounds from you."

"We've only made love twice, sister...and I have no complaints..."

"Nor do I, but...there was girl in your room once..."

"You shameless voyeur..." he smiled at her.

"Hmm...yes, I admit it..." Lucrezia said as she looked nervously down at her own hands; she cast her eyes upon him again, and on her own face was sheer puzzlement and the true desire for edification. "She had her face...buried...in your crotch and you..." Lucrezia blushed anew, "...you had a look on yours as if heaven itself had opened up for you, ready to draw you up into it...what was she doing to you, brother?" she asked him in earnest.

It was Cesare's turn to blush. "Sister, are you pulling my leg?" he managed through a choked little chuckle.

"I am not," she assured him with dead seriousness.

"Ah," he let out a lustful guffaw at her then. "This is going to be quite a week..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later Cesare went to the Vatican to check in with his father.

"Ah...Our son! Nothing like receiving the gift of a dead prince at one's door—so much better to receive a living one," his father jested as he took his son into his arms for a hug.

"I am no prince, father," Cesare responded gruffly.

"Not yet," Rodrigo smiled at him as he released him. "How is Our daughter? Is she safely appointed in her rooms?"

"She is not here."

"What? What do you mean 'she is not here'? Where is she, then?"

"She remains at Orsini Palace and I would not endeavor to take more time than is necessary to return to her."

"What madness is this, now? We would have you bring her home, Cesare, straight away—would not Our daughter benefit from the loving ministrations and concern of her Holy Father?"

"Not if she is to witness the machinations that I see so clearly swirling about in our Holy Father's head, as explicit and detailed as any fantastic Da Vinci drawing," Cesare hissed at his father. "If she were to see that you would work the most abominable ill upon her, one from which you would never recover," he assured him. "She loved him, you know," Cesare reminded him angrily, "she is in mourning; and you will give her this time to grieve before you visit your dreams of another wretched alliance upon her."

"What alliance? Have We said a word about an alliance?" Rodrigo pretested weakly.

"You do not have to."

"Cesare," Rodrigo grumbled at him, outdone at being called out, "why would you insult Us so?"

"It is not my intent to insult you, Holy Father, only to make it clear that I intend to see to the best interests of my dear sister at this most horrible of times."

"And so...you will keep her at the palace, away from Us? See to her? You and you alone? Why is her mother not in attendance?"

"You know very well that her mother is needed to see after the child."

"Hmm..." Rodrigo groaned his displeasure at his son through suspicious eyes.

"She is not ready to have her grief visited upon by the eyes of the world—she will have this time of respite, Holy Father, and resurface for the requiem mass of her beloved husband; pray that she will be strong enough, then, to get on with her life. You will give her that, she has been through much." It was more of an order than a request.

"Hmm," Rodrigo snorted indignantly at his son, "and you? What of your victorious campaign? The rest of the Romagna awaits the return of your glorious administration."

"And the rest of the Romagna will still exist on earth when I return to administer to it. Holy Father."

The two men stared each other down.

"You must bestow my title of Papal Gonfalonier, after all, and now is not quite the time for celebration, would you not agree?" Cesare said as he broke the vehement silence between them first.

Rodrigo did not appreciate Cesare's commanding manner but grudgingly accepted the truth his son was leveling at him. "Cesare, We do not wish to fight over this..." Rodrigo began as the features on his face and the tone in his voice softened.

"We are not fighting, father." Cesare's tone was still angry and resolute.

"Yes, alright, until the requiem mass. Give Our daughter Our love and tell her that Our deepest prayers are with her," Rodrigo sighed his resignation.

Cesare gave an angry bow of his head and left his father to go and see to another before he returned to his sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare Borgia..." Her voice was the like the caress of fine silk; wickedly tantalizing and sinfully inviting. "Please tell me that you have come to release me to my death." Her smile, though sweet, was an effort, evidenced by the corners which struggled to hold it in place.

"That would not suit me, Countess."

"I am not concerned with what suits you, Your Excellence," her voice was proud yet calm, "I would rather be released to Hell to consort with demons, rankle them with tales of the Borgia Pope, who is better accomplished than even they dare to be. Their jealous abuses would be more tolerable—and welcomed—than what surely awaits me at the hands of your father." A single tear dropped from one of her eyes; Cesare gave her a only a reprimanding look through his furrowed brow as he sighed at her and advanced upon her in her gilded cage; she turned her head abruptly away from him.

He produced the key and unlocked the cage door, then held his hand out to her. "Caterina..." he softly called her name.

She found herself utterly unable to move, and certainly had no desire to have him witness more of her tears; she tried desperately to collect herself.

"Caterina..." he called out her name again, just barely above a whisper. "I am here to escort you to your true quarters, those befitting a woman of your stature."

"Prison—call it truly what it is, for I will not be a party to such delusions," she retorted angrily, still unable to face him.

"You have my promise that my father will not hurt you," he said then. Caterina's head whipped around and her face was full of fury.

"You can make no such promise and you know it. You were here; you saw the look on your father's face as he accosted me in this very cage..."

"And you almost bit off his finger, dear lady," Cesare said amusedly.

"I would have bitten off more, had I not been chained, and stuffed his abominable parts down his throat to choke on," she spit at him.

"Caterina, calm yourself and come with me now, I would have you at your ease."

"Then kindly kill me now, Your Excellence," she requested as she grudgingly took his hand at last.

"I would not make your children motherless, Countess."

"Ah...if only you'd had such regard for me where my Benito had been concerned..."

"Caterina..."

"You've granted death to so many, Cesare Borgia—to refuse my request now is the grandest of cruelties."

"You will not think so when you have been released, Countess," he told her matter-of-factly.

"And so you will doom me to suffer the penalties your father will surely inflict upon me."

"I will say this, my Lady," he leaned down and spoke into the bereft woman's ear as he escorted her from the dungeon, "your appointed rooms contain no chains or shackles; I am sure that if there is anyone on this earth that can give my father another think coming that one would be you, Tigress."

"Ah...from promises of safety to instructions for self-defense. Unless you have left me the present of a fine dagger hidden under my bed pillow you can only wish me well, then, Cesare Borgia," she said bitterly.

Cesare saw the Countess delivered safely to her quarters in Castel Sant'Angelo then rushed back to Orsini Palace and the waiting arms of his sister.


	3. Because The Dagger Knows My Heart

When he gave himself over to the fact that his friend was indeed gone, Cesare took the torch from the wall and went to the kitchen. It was late by then; the cook and his apprentice had long deserted their duties for their quarters and the hearth and the room were cold. Cesare went to the cellar and retrieved a carafe of red wine; from the kitchen he gathered a loaf of bread, two goblets, a flask of water, a fine selection of fresh pears and a bowl of sultanas into a basket; he traded his torch for a small candelabra burning above the hearth and then went bounding upstairs to his sister in their suite.

He entered their room quietly, for Lucrezia was asleep; he set their repast on the desk in the anteroom; the water, wine and goblets he brought with him and set upon the bedside table. Lucrezia stirred in her sleep, aware then that she was blessedly no longer alone and looked up at him with drowsy eyes.

"How are you, my love?" he asked as he looked down at her, busying himself with the removal of his cloak.

"Happier, now that you have returned...I take back what I said before, Cesare..." she smiled at him.

"And what is that, sis?" he smiled back at her as he tossed his cloak on a nearby chair, then took his seat on the edge of the bed to face her.

"I would gladly say goodbye to you a thousand times, as long as I may greet you a thousand times in return, with a kiss upon these lips."

Cesare smiled at her and put his forehead to hers; he wanted to promise her that he would make it so but his heart made it impossible to allow his lips to utter such a lie to her; his squeezed his eyes shut tightly and concentrated on the feel of her warm skin against his own instead of the many worries plaguing him. "Have you been asleep long?" he asked her when he opened his eyes again to look into hers.

"Most of the day and evening...my body knows an exhaustion it has never felt before; not even bringing Giovanni into the world wrought this much exhaustion upon me," she said, her voice tinged with amazement.

"It is no wonder, sis...at least, not to me," he ventured softly at her. "I have brought food...maybe in concert with your long hours of sleep sustenance would now be the thing to help replenish your strength, yes?" Cesare poured a goblet of wine for her.

"Yes, I am parched..." Lucrezia sat up then and stopped him from his task, "for the feel of your lips upon me, brother."

"Oh?" he set the goblet down, "and where would you have my lips begin with you, sis? Here?" He pushed her gently back against the headboard and lowered the sheet over her naked body, following its trail with gentle kisses that led to the inside of her thigh, threatening to follow his course even further inward; he stopped abruptly and rose up slowly to look at her with a knowing smirk. "Or do other lips call first for my attention?"

"Gentleman's choice, dear brother," she moaned at him as she took a handful of his soft, long locks in hand and pushed his head gently toward the heaven between her legs; he stopped to look up at her again, a smile of pure and devilish joy upon his face, then happily obliged her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" _La novizia_ desires to know if _Il Maestro_ finds her competent," she asked him after their third round of lovemaking.

"Well, sister..." Cesare began pompously of voice, as if he were an old man "I would say that you have great perseverance; the initiative you show—exceptional, young lady, exceptional, indeed...hmm..." he chuckled wickedly as he cocked one eyebrow and stroked his scruffy beard in self-satisfied contemplation.

Lucrezia laughed out loud at his comical impression that actually sounded more like their father in his best humor.

"You have most assuredly met mine, but would you say that you have met your own?"

"Met my own what?"

"Ambitions, dear lady, of course...hmm?"

"I have met your ambitions, Cesare?"

"Did you not hear evidence of it with your own ears all of these hours? I believe that was your initial goal, was it not?" Cesare's voice was his own again and very serious.

Lucrezia blushed her answer at her brother.

"This shyness you possess—it is more intoxicating than any wine, are you aware of that, sis? I speak words that you seem to find so unbelieving—how is that?" he asked her incredulously as he took her sweet face into his hands and made her cast her eyes back upon him instead of her wringing hands. "So beautiful, you are; so fair; so formidable—you are the best of us Borgia's and so misunderstood...so severely misused and still you hold your honor and bearing as regally as any Queen born to a throne. Are you really of this earth, Lucrezia? And are you really here, in my arms? How can it be that you are so unaware of how much you please me, sis? That will ever be a question for the ages..." he kissed her neck hungrily.

"Your words are kind and appreciated, but I am none of those things—except a Borgia; murderous; conniving—selfish..." she began through a little hiccup as she tried desperately not to give herself over to burgeoning tears as she pushed herself away from him.

"No sister, that is your father and your brothers and a bastard's bad luck of the draw..." he said as he took her by her arms and pulled her back into him. "You, of all of us, deserved so much better than this—you deserved a life of true happiness."

"And you as well, brother—I would have that for you, if it were within my power," tears were flowing fully then as she tried to look away from him.

"No, please don't cry...please," he begged her, his voice full of torment. "These two days have been the happiest days of my life—you have given me that, Lucrezia, and three more to look forward to...come on now, stop this crying, my love; the only way you could please me more is beyond our capabilities, for I would desire to live in a world where we could marry; live our lives in the open and grow old together."

"Yes, we've...we've... played that hopeless...hopeless little game before, haven't we?" she reminded herself sadly through her choked sobs. "So amazing that our mother...a...a courtesan no less, was so devoted to him that she bore him four undisputed bastards. Just think: my Giovanni could fall in love with a daughter of mine by another man and they could both fool themselves by calling each other cousin, then go on with their lives..." she tried to joke through her tears.

"Lucrezia, stop this—that's not true and you know it..." he reprimanded her lightly.

"They could..." her cries became more intense as he took her again into his embrace.

"They could not, sister...blood is blood, it would change nothing for them as it would have changed nothing for us. I will never apologize for my love for you..."

"Easy to do when you cannot openly declare it to the world to begin with, brother," she said bitterly.

"Lucrezia..."

"I'm sorry, Cesare—I did not mean that..." she began in horror at her own self. "A declaration to the world is not what I want, I just want to be free to want you...I just..."

"I know what you want sister and I take no offense for I want the same...you must ease yourself," he spoke softly into her hair as he cradled her.

"Yes, the only man on this earth that will ever understand me."

"And you are the only woman who will ever understand me, Lucrezia; I have committed many sins—I'm not even worthy of your love..."

"That is a lie..."

"It is not, but how I thank the Universe that you love me anyway, my Lady..." he turned her face up to his gently. "I have done horrible things and I regret much, know that; but within myself...within my heart—I will never regret you."

"Nor I, you, Cesare. I do not think, brother, that I'm doing very well at exorcising my love for you from my soul...I'm sure I was mad to think that I could..."

"No, not mad—only endeavoring do that which you thought was right; and we have not succeeded, have we?" he smiled sympathetically at her.

"No, we have not."

"Because that ambition was wrong, Lucrezia, not our love for each other. Don't you understand? You think we must survive each other, but we can _only_ survive as long as we have each other; no matter that we may be apart or what other we may be with—as long as we are both in here..." Cesare took her hand and put it to his heart then took his and put it to hers, "...you are my strength, Lucrezia; you are my better half and my true love, always and forever, no matter what, no matter who, till death do us part and I would celebrate our love, not choose to exorcise it—that is a thing that is simply impossible for me to do; more impossible, even, than my love for you."

"My Cesare..." Lucrezia broke down completely then.

"Yes, your Cesare...and my Lucrezia...yes..." he murmured at her through his closed eyes.

"Cesare..."

"You need this cry, sister; you must get it out...for me...for Alfonso...for yourself."

"Oh, my God...Cesare..." she continued to sob into his chest.

"Your capacity to love is boundless, Lucrezia, just as my understanding of you is...and my love for you; I would not have either of us ever have to try and explain ourselves to each other, do you hear me? But as much as I want you all to myself I could never harbor ill-will toward a man who would dare to truly make you happy—I would be insanely jealous, of course..."

Lucrezia let out an involuntary chuckle. "No matter what my torment you manage always to make me laugh..." she managed before her crying jag reclaimed her.

"You must know...that what happened with Alfonso was a horrid accident, Lucrezia..." he managed finally, his voice full and raw and real remorse.

"Ah...you thought Alfonso was that man..."

"Wasn't he?"

"Let it weigh on your soul no longer, brother, please," she looked up at him then. "You are not Juan...and Alfonso was not you."

"But I am still so very sorry..."

"If I didn't know that we would not be here now. And thank you for that, brother, it means everything to me to hear you say and know that you mean it. I did love him, but not as he truly deserved. His torment was my fault alone. My marriage to Sforza was annulled—and so should the same favor have been done for that boy, the morning after you and I made love, Cesare; for my heart was gone from him then, completely; a true wife I was destined never to be for him. Father would have loved that one," she said as she wiped at her tears, her voice bitter again.

"He would have, actually—he had his sights set on an even better alliance before the ink on your marriage contract had cooled—before it had even been written, I dare say," Cesare grunted disgustedly. "To think of all you could have been spared..."

"Not just me, Cesare, all of us—do you never think of yourself?" she asked him exasperatedly.

"We've not been raised to..." Cesare's voice gave out then as he looked away from her and tried not to choke on the reality of his next words, "... to think of ourselves, Lucrezia." It was her turn to put her hand gently to his chin and turn his gaze back upon her.

"His worst crime against us, Cesare. We _could_ run away and go somewhere we are not known...and be happy, at last...but it is impossible because as much as you love me his will leads you elsewhere and away from me..."

Cesare shot his gaze away from her.

" _His_ will, that has always been confused with your destiny..." she said cautiously and softly of voice.

Cesare had been holding his breath tensely as he listened to her and expelled it upon a tortured, gut-wrenching grunt of confirmation. "Lucrezia, why would you plunge this dagger into my heart now?" his angry words exploded at her as he turned back to face her.

"Because I understand you! Because the dagger knows my heart, as well, Cesare! If we cannot have each other can we at least be free? I want your happiness, as surely as that means that I cannot have you, but I want you living and breathing--alive to enjoy it!" she cried out desperately at him. "Our father's will leads you to certain death..."

"The life of a _soldier_ leads me to the possibility of an early death, Lucrezia," he corrected her angrily as he peeled her off of him and rose up and away from the bed. "A man knows that going in."

"He will not live forever, Cesare; we are in eminent need of seeieng to our own happiness, of carving something out for ourselves, independently of him, before the day comes that we lose the favors of his unstable influence..."

"You have that little faith in my ability, sis?" The insult registered on his face was breaking her heart.

"No, Cesare, you know better than that—I only have fear—fear of our many enemies, who will increase a thousand-fold at the moment of his last breath," she said delicately.

"That's what I'm doing, Lucrezia!" he railed at her. "I am the Duke of Valentois—Romagna is mine next! If you understand me so well then you will say not another word, Lucrezia Borgia, for I will leave this place—and you—and begin this destiny you believe that I've had no hand in carving out for myself—this very night!" He went about the room then, snatching up his clothes angrily.

"Cesare—where are you going?" Lucrezia tried to keep her voice calm but her throat was choked with the tears she was trying unsuccessfully to hold back. "Cesare?"

"I need air..." he managed to say through gritted teeth and then left without looking at her.


	4. A Brother In Arms

There was yet another Cesare had to see to, one who awaited him clandestinely in the deserted great room on the first floor of Orsini Palace.

"I'm surprised to find you still here...I thought you might have run off to your own freedom, by now." Cesare said as he marched into the room, torch in hand.

"I am...a _professional_ of my word, Your Excellence."

_But are you to be trusted,_ Cesare questioned himself honestly as he stopped before the man and took his careful measure. "You've fared well, I see, these past two days," Cesare said as he secured the torch to a wall.

"No great feat at all, Your Excellence, in an empty palace with a kitchen so well stocked; plenty of shelter without its walls, even against winter's cold."

"Hmm...and awaiting what, Rufio?" He approached him again.

"Your orders, certainly, Your Excellence."

"No one has seen you?"

"There are only three here now, Your Excellence—they have not seen me."

"Before that...that night."

"No one has seen me, Your Excellence," Rufio assured him firmly. "I see that my services were not needed after all, _that night_ ," Rufio gave a deep bow at Cesare.

Cesare bristled inwardly at Rufio's affrontery. "It seems not," he responded curtly.

"Prince Alfonso...has _met_ his end and is at peace, at last, may he so rest."

"Surely you know that your deliberate words arouse my suspicions of you and do nothing to help instill my trust in you."

"I believe my predecessor started out much the same way, Your Excellence. He was hired to kill you and your father, I believe, was he not? How it speaks to your character that one such as he would experience a shift in allegiance and dedicate himself to you instead. Did he not prove to be a most loyal servant?"

"That and much more, Rufio—he was my brother in arms."

"Ah, and much better that than a brother by blood."

The flash of Cesare's sword and then the tip of it suddenly at Rufio's throat only made him raise an eyebrow.

"Tread carefully, assassin, for you have seen much; I know that your true loyalties lie with the Lady imprisoned in Castel Sant'Angelo; I know that you would turn against me and the Borgia Pope all of Rome despises before the beat of a heart would complete itself—tell me why I should not run you through now?" Cesare pressed his steel into Rufio's throat just enough to draw blood.

"You do not need me to tell you any such thing, Your Excellence, but I will humor you—you need my services; I need a job. Very simple is it not?" Rufio kept his gaze locked on Cesare's furious eyes.

"Nothing is ever simple in Rome, assassin," Cesare snarled at him. "Especially not for a Spanish Pope."

"And I would defend that Spanish Pope...and you, Your Excellence, without dereliction of duty."

"And to what do we owe such an oath of fealty?"

"Honestly I will say, the will of my Lady, who even in defeat had the foresight to recognize the tide of the future and the greatness of her enemy; she recommended me to seek out promotion under your formidable regime."

"You cannot serve two masters, Rufio."

"My Lady is deposed, Your Excellence, and I am no longer in her employ. I am in yours. I may yet hold her in high regard, but my service is to you alone—she wished me success, you see, being that she was very much my sister in arms."

Rufio's easy words did not comfort Cesare at all.

"I see that you are not convinced, Your Excellence. I only ask that you give me time to prove myself, as you did your greatly esteemed Captain Corella."

"I am not seeking a replacement for Don Micheletto for that is a thing not possible on this earth, so never utter his name to me again, do you understand?" Cesare hissed at him.

"Yes, Your Excellence." Rufio was ever calm and collected, which maddened Cesare greatly as he struggled to keep his own composure.

"What I require of you now is to return to Forli, as my lieutenant, and join the Bishop of Triani, who is already posted there. I shall be returning to my duties in full after Prince Alfonso is laid to rest and my official title of Gonfalonier is bestowed upon me by the Pope, in less than the next two weeks." Cesare reluctantly withdrew his sword.

"Yes, Your Excellence."

"Make haste, Rufio," Cesare dismissed him. Rufio bowed and left him thus.

All that Cesare could think about at that moment was who he might dispatch to kill Rufio; he had hired the man to kill Alfonso, after all; whether he had carried out the task or not, that fact alone was enough to end his own burgeoning career before it started and ruin any further plans of his Holy Father's; and that it had actually been Lucrezia that had done it...she simply had to be protected, at all costs. They all had to be.

He paced the floor, uneasy that he let the man leave the palace without being in hot pursuit to take him out himself. He wanted to feel Lucrezia's arms about him, the only thing that had remained constant in his thoughts since he had left her. But he knew that he should go tearing out and spill the man's blood safely out of the palace, before he got any further down the road. Surely he would go to the Holy City to rescue his lady and then tell all of Rome what had truly transpired in the palace on the night of the Prince's death. So why were his feet so affixed to the floor? What devil had him in its grip that would allow ruin to ride into Rome and call itself Rufio?

"He lies to you, Cesare, and you know it," came a voice from the darkness of the barely-lit room. Cesare wheeled around, searching for the face that belonged to the voice frantically.

"Micheletto?" he whispered his name, his voice full of shocked joy.

"I am here, Cesare," he heard his invisible friend say.

"I thought you said I would never see you again," Cesare smiled broadly as he still looked about.

"And do you see me, Your Excellence?" Cesare could hear the smile in Micheletto's voice.

"No," he let out a hearty guffaw, " I certainly do not."

"You are my family, Cesare Borgia, and I will look out for you and yours until my last and dying breath. Take your comfort—Rufio is mine."

"Micheletto? Micheletto!" Cesare called out desperately to him. But Micheletto, ever a man of the shadows, was gone.


	5. Loyalties

Micheletto rode through the cold night, the wind biting at his cheeks, but felt none of it; he thought he would never feel anything again, but slowly he had come back to himself, still numb, but no longer the walking dead man he had been. How well it had done his heart the night he went to Cesare sleeping in his tent, bearing the strategy that would bring his brother victory. He'd harbored no ill-will at him over Pascal, for the fault of his undoing had been his own; anyone who thought they knew a damn would think his heart had been broken over killing the boy that he had come to love, but that was not it at all; what had driven him away was his shame at letting Cesare down so spectacularly; that he had dropped his guard enough for it to happen at all.

Cesare would never know the true depth of his love for him—or maybe, deep-down, in that place where men hid the truest parts of their souls from their own selves for safe-keeping, he really did. Whatever the case, Cesare had been man enough to accept that most private revelation about him and had not judged; had been man enough to love him and still call him friend, and continue to trust Micheletto with his life. If Cesare was a man he could dream about in the most private recesses of his soul and his heart and never be the wiser that would have ever been enough; but to hear his words declared at Rufio that night had made his heart soar to the heavens: _"That and much more, Rufio—he was my brother in arms."_ The flash of steel in the dark room and perfume that was Rufio's blood riding on the drafty air as Cesare said, _"I am not seeking a replacement for Don Micheletto for that is a thing not possible on this earth..."_ was a vision burned forever into his brain; those words, still echoing in his head, made him do that which he rarely did: smile.

Pascal had gotten what he surely deserved but Micheletto thanked God that Cesare had not rendered what Micheletto felt he had deserved, which would have been not only his anger, but his truest disappointment and banishment; he would not have been able to bear that. The concern that Micheletto had seen in Cesare's eyes for him that night in his tent at Forli, well, he had been cautious not to read too much into; but the joy in Cesare's voice he'd heard that night at Orsini Palace was unmistakable and Micheletto could feel himself finally returning to the world of the living, one foot in, at least; Rufio's blood on his bare hands would help to bring him back firmly planted on his two.

He knew exactly where Rufio was headed and the little bit of lead-time his target had on him was of no consequence; he would let him go to his Lady with a plan for her escape, which would not be that night; no, he would need time to meet with her, detail the particulars and then make the arrangements. But those arrangements would never come to fruition and Rufio would not survive to see the sunrise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rufio, miles ahead of him and almost at the Vatican, laughed to himself silently over the fool that was Cesare Borgia: the counterfeit Duke of Valentinois; would-be ruler of Romagna; the pagan, bastard Spaniard who would be king if he could! Yes, that was a laugh, and a good one. The unholy Cardinal who couldn't shuck his defiled scarlet robe and biretta fast enough and imagined himself a military genius; the heathen son-of-a-whore not satisfied enough with his mother's own kind to drown his Borgia dick in the brothels of Rome as his father and brother had done, but would surely fuck his own sister blind before morning; common Catalan criminals who had the gall to think that they could rule over Rome and Romans and good Italian people by day and murder real Princes of Italy by night; a man who would kill his own brother, for surely he was guilty and no one would ever be able to convince Rufio differently.

He thought of all of those things and more; of all the plots his Lady had devised yet had not triumphed; of the the personal risk to himself in delivering the Plague to the Vatican itself and how nothing had put the Borgia Pope yet in his waiting grave. And what did any of it matter in the end? Nothing, for Cesare had walked up to him in his cell and offered Rufio his downfall on a silver platter in the guise of a contract for the murder of the Prince of Naples. He laughed out loud as he thought of his own murderous acquaintances who had often joked of this enemy or that who had "accidentally" fallen upon their sword; that it had actually been the case with the unfortunate Prince was rich, yet so wrong. And to put him out of his misery the Borgia Bitch had poisoned him. Did she know, he wondered, as she yet lay with her brother, most-likely calling out her ecstasies to God at that very moment, that Cesare had planned her husband's certain murder that night? What a fucking lot of degenerates they all were, he thought as a disgusted grunt of insult escaped him.

He rode onward; his silent outrage, over the fact that they had existed in Rome as long as they had, was more warming against the winter night air than his own cloak. Give one enough rope, the old saying went...amazing that, after all of the failed attempts on the Pope's life, all anyone had ever needed to do was wait, apparently, for them to finally go too bold and too far. Well, now their day of reckoning was coming, at last. He would deliver his Lady from her prison and together they would hasten that day.

Rufio had learned that Caterina was not being detained on the second floor of the prisons, but in a Papal apartment on fourth floor and it was his plan to use the Passetto di Borgo, the corridor that connected the Vatican to the Castle, to get to her. It had been amazingly easy to slip in unnoticed with just his hooded cloak on and within a half hour of arriving at the Vatican he had found her. He slipped a note under the barred door and waited.

"Rufio? Rufio!" came her frantic whisper through the door.

"My Lady...are you alright?"

"I am alright—and you? Are you alright?"

"I am."

"This place is curiously deserted, Rufio, but the guards come three times a day to bring food and after sunset only one, who every hour on the hour makes a cursory check of the lock—he should be here soon..."

"Good, my Lady, just the thing I needed to know. I have much to tell you but you can see from my note I'm here to see exactly how to get you out of here...I see what I will need...this time tomorrow you will be a free woman again," he whispered back at her. On the other side of the door the Countess gave a heavy sigh of relief.

"He's coming for me at the end of this week, Rufio..."

"Who, my Lady?"

"The Borgia Pope himself...but thanks to you I will be spared that meeting."

"Yes, my Lady, most assuredly."

"All the same, I would give anything for a blade..."

"I have nothing that will fit under this door, my Lady..."

"Alright...alright...I shall calm myself...I shall calm myself," she whispered more to herself than Rufio.

"Yes, my Lady—tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night—thank you, Rufio, and Godspeed."

"Yes, my Lady."

"No...I think not," came a hushed but authoritative voice from a figure down the narrow hall; he stood tall and at attention, one hand at the hilt of his sword, the other clutching the inner sleeve attachment of his doublet. He was not a guard.

"Rufio? Who is that? Rufio?" came Caterina's desperate whispers through the door.

"You!" Rufio hissed at his enemy with all of the venom of a cobra poised to strike.

"Yes..." the man said calmly, "...me."


	6. To Hate And To Love

Micheletto gave a little lean forward into the moonlight shinning down the narrow hall through a mullioned window so that his surprised enemy could get an even better look at him; he cocked his head to one side, settled his piercing azure blue eyes upon the man and spoke to him as if he were a complete dullard. "There—is that better? Are your eyes in concert now with your pea-sized brain?"

"Insults? From you? A mama's boy? A soft little broken-hearted Sodomite? I don't know which is the worse abomination, that you're a son of Forli or its traitor, Borgia-lover..." Rufio sneered at him.

"Ah, but some things do not require a choice; I'll gladly bear your hatred for being both."

"You would."

"And so pleased to finally make _your_ acquaintance, Rufio..."

"We have met before, Captain Corella."

"You did not let me finish—I meant to add while I am conscious, you coward," Micheletto's smile was full of deadly mirth.

"Not cowardice at all, Captain—consideration, I would be inclined to say—I did not wish to disturb, for you slept so soundly and so... _sweetly_."

Micheletto ignored his enemy's juvenile slur.

"And where have you been? I suppose licking your own wounds provides a special pleasure for you—and that would take some time, would it not? Or maybe you found a replacement for your beloved Pascal to take up that task for you? Who knew that a Sodomite possessed as much heart that it could be broken? And we won't even begin to discuss what a poor excuse of an assassin you are. And they said you were my equal..." Rufio spat upon the floor.

"Are you done yet?" Micheletto asked him in his cool, officious manner, completely unfazed, his head cocked then to the other side.

"I will be done after I've run my blade through your ass and sliced your body in half like the swine that you truly are."

"You've quite the preoccupation with my ass, Rufio—have you tried confession? I've heard that it works wonders for the guilty soul."

"How dare you!" Rufio drew his sword and charged down the hall in a rage; he lunged at Micheletto's heart; Micheletto dodged him effortlessly and Rufio collided with the wall, at which point Micheletto took his sword by the flat side and swatted Rufio's arse with it, as if he were a naughty school boy. Rufio's face was flush with rage and embarrassment as he sprang away from the wall to face off again.

"Argh! To your hell, Sodomite!" _Where are the guards_ , Rufio wondered silently to himself as he yelled out loudly, hoping to make enough noise at least to draw them into the vicinity and cause enough distraction to use to his advantage.

From the inside of her apartment Caterina listened to their exchange in despair.

"Did you really think that you were such a success, stealing into the Vatican and finding your lady so easily and unimpeded?" Micheletto asked him quietly.

Rufio was momentarily taken aback. _Does the demon dare to read my mind?_ He looked aghast at his enemy.

"You are in my backyard, remember..." Micheletto smirked when he saw the disgust registered on his enemy's face as Rufio caught his wicked double entendre and the fact that the Vatican had indeed been Micheletto's second home; of course he had released the guards, who knew him all too well and would follow his orders unquestioned as Cesare Borgia's loyal and trusted _Condotierri_.

"You will die this night, Don Micheletto Corella, that is a promise," Rufio raged at him and struck his first mocking blow upon Micheletto's shoulder.

"Oh yes, I will die—as violently as I have lived, certainly..." Micheletto jumped lightly away from him, undaunted by his feint, then produced his anlace as if out of thin air and sliced effectively at the unsuspecting man's neck, where a fine line of blood began to paint his throat red. "...but not this night...and not at your sorry hand..."

"Ruffian!" Rufio yelled as he gripped his smarting throat with his free hand, "you fight like a desperate street urchin..."

"I'm not fighting, Rufio—I'm having fun..." he said as he lunged at his enemy in earnest with his sword and gave him a taste of what he thought he wanted; their swords sang their discord at each other as they fought further down the hall, bouncing off the walls before they erupted into a small lobby that led down to the next floor; they engaged in a vigorous and circular parry around the room before Micheletto found himself just at the top of the staircase; caught up in the heat of the moment and a seemingly clear shot at his nemesis, at last, Rufio charged him; Micheletto ducked and allowed his body to be the catalyst for tripping his over-zealous foe down the hard stone stairs. Rufio caught himself somehow half-way down; on fire with rage he collected himself and raced back up the stairs.

"Ah! too bad—a broken neck would have been an honorable death, Rufio!" Micheletto grunted at him as he swung his sword at his torso when he reached the top of the stairs. "Shall we try again?" he asked as he watched the man closely, as if he was awaiting the outcome of an easy bet. Rufio, who had just barely avoided his blade, was teetering on his tip-toes, desperately trying to maintain his balance to keep from falling back down them again; he grabbed at a tapestry on the wall and propelled himself forward just mere seconds before Micheletto severed it with a clean slice horizontal to the rod.

"Better?" Micheletto taunted him as they dueled again, Rufio advancing him backwards and to the hallway where they had started.

But Micheletto bested him again as their swords crossed, locked against Rufio's chest with his back against a wall. "Is this better? Huh?" Micheletto nodded his own head at him, as if to elicit Rufio's answer of 'yes'.

With all of his strength Rufio pushed him off and tried to regroup himself as he backed defensively away; they were back within earshot of Caterina, who was plastered against her door in horrified suspense; Micheletto looked at him then as if he were an insect trapped under a glass and ready to be dissected. They stared each other down.

_This man thinks love is a weakness and he judges me for feeling it and for whom I've felt it; but love and killing...they go together for me, always, inextricably bound; and because they do I am a stronger man: a better son, for I loved my father, even as I ran my sword through his heart; a better brother, for I have protected well those that depend on me to do so; a better assassin, for my target is always centered and my aim is sure; and though killing is my trade, love has made me human, for am I not a man with a soul? He is soulless; and a failure—because he did not and would not love..._

"If you'd truly loved your Lady..." Micheletto began slowly, as Rufio stood en guard unable to tear his eyes away from those piercing blue orbs, hanging on every whispered word, "she would not be captive now, at the hands of a man she hates with her whole soul—and fears. You did not protect her, Rufio..."

"What?" Rufio's eyes beamed pure hate at Micheletto.

"Did she not ask you to make sure that she would not be captured alive?"

"What?" The disbelief at what Rufio was hearing and the implication of how it came to be that he was hearing it from Micheletto's lips made him loosen his grip upon his sword in shock.

"You called me a poor excuse of an assassin, did you not? But who is the failure here really, Rufio, huh?"

_Oh Rufio, do not listen to him_ , Caterina clasped her hands together and admonished him silently as if in prayer from behind her barricaded door.

"Oh, you've killed many—innocents; incidental targets—again I ask you: who is the failure? You could have killed me, on more than one occasion, yet...here we are... discussing failure..."

"I can kill you still...Sodomite...traitor!" But even Caterina could hear that Rufio did not feel the conviction of his own words.

"Judge me, if you will; or not; how you choose to spend your last conscious thoughts matter not to me, Rufio..." _For I know nothing of God except that I deliver souls to Him that He would judge, not I; just as I know I will die and be judged and my soul sent to where He would send it._ Micheletto's eyes bore into Rufio's, his thoughts a mystery to the man before him. "I love you, Rufio, enough to send you to God now; vengeance may be sweet—but it is not mine—only He can render your just reward. And for what you have done to me and mine, you shall surely have it."

Micheletto rushed him then, knocked Rufio's sword out of his hand, then dropped his own upon the floor and pinned him against the wall with his bare hands around his slippery, bloody throat, all as if in one seamless move. Without anymore words between them he choked the life out of him, pressing his hands so deeply into him that his own knuckles dug into the the stone wall behind the dying man's head. When the last light flickered out of his eyes Micheletto dropped his body in a heap with a soft thud against the floor. When he examined his hands he found the skin shredded and bleeding but he felt nothing; nothing except his two feet planted firmly on the floor beneath him ready to walk out of the castle and reunite with earth again. But first he had another task to see to.

Behind her door crouched Caterina, her hands clamped across her mouth stifling her silent scream and violent sobs. Micheletto went to the door and knelt before it.

"You are a formidable woman, my Lady; but as you well know your man is dead. And I would kill you...but I cannot—only because it is the will of Cesare Borgia that you live. Pray that he never changes his mind," he whispered at her through the door.

Caterina heard him stand and walk away; she strained to hear him retrieve Rufio's body but her ears could make out nothing else definable except a profound and deafening silence.


	7. Confounded

Lucrezia was feeling listless and anxious. She had not meant to upset Cesare but the words had to be said, for he indeed, never thought of himself first. She had admonished him years ago that he must find love first for himself before he could love anyone else and she was not convinced that he had done that, at all.

She had not been privy to it but she knew that he and her father had made some peace between each other, a peace, thus far, that had not been garnered between father and daughter. As long His Holiness endeavored to hold Naples and France within the power of his grip it would mean rancor, always between her and her brother. But no—she was a princess of Naples no longer: Alfonso was no more. And what did it matter? Her father would only enjoin her to some other country that Cesare could spar with.

And what had it cost? Only a life. Alfonso; that poor, sweet innocent boy. She would hold shame in her heart forever over her treatment of him, and regret that his life had been caught up in her father's deadly web of intrigue and ambition. _Chess pieces on a board, all of us,_ she thought bitterly to herself.

She was so tired of it all. All she wanted was a life; free of war and treachery; of politics and discord; of alliances, deadly and fleeting; and the rivers of blood that came along with all of it. She wanted Cesare to have a life. Oh, that he had only been an artist, like Da Vinci or Michelangelo—or a damned baker or butcher or accountant, for that matter—something simple and peaceful and yes, ordinary. She had half-siblings somewhere, living ordinary lives; then again, they had not been claimed by the Borgia Pope and were very bitter, especially Bernardo Sailór dei Venezia, she'd heard tell from Cesare; he'd sought Cesare out in the confessional once, not very long after he'd joined the consistory, and confessed quite a few things, indeed. Cesare had told her about it then and said that his heart was bitter and his soul was blacker than Juan's, which had greatly unsettled her and still did. How many lives had the ambitions of Rodrigo Borgia ruined?

Lucrezia tried to tear herself away from those thoughts, but it seemed of late that she was consumed by them. The 'What If' game was a terrible one to play and no matter what she imagined for herself or her brother they always came out on the losing side, for reality always came careening back to the fore; the reality of what it meant to live in the world—a man's world. And a man's world was full of war. Every continent was embroiled in some play for more more land, more riches—more power.

That Cesare had the natural heart, soul and ability of a soldier was no surprise and no anomaly, she admitted to herself. But she hated to her core that their father had ignored that in him, all the years up until the moment they'd found themselves in then, and, coming so late to the party, chose to exploit him to his own mad ambitions. Her own mother had come to her, just as Cesare had left for Forli, undone that she had heard the word 'fear' issue forth from her son's lips and then that which had caused it: the Holy Father's mad ambition of primogeniture. Lucrezia did not know much but she knew that would never happen—nor should it. She would never be able to admit that feeling to her brother; the ones that she had were bad enough and had already danced too dangerously close around her truest concern. She would have to bear her fears in silence and not trouble her brother with them again, for he had enough to contend with already.

She rose from the bed then to see to herself; after the lavatory she washed her hands in the cold water of the basin back in the bathing room then lit the hearth; she took a bucket for water and headed to the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare was in the cold kitchen, sitting at the small dining table in the dark, alone with his own thoughts.

He understood well that his sister's concern's were not the selfish rantings of a lovelorn schoolgirl: unrealistic, self-absorbed; dramatically over-blown. Her concern was for him in earnest, even before herself. She was a fine one to speak, indeed, of putting the concerns of others before self, he smiled to himself. Though she had not grown up in court, like her idol Caterina Sforza, who had been raised by a progressive woman to hunt, be instructed in the ways of warfare and fight to defend her people—had not Lucrezia done the same things?

She was a slip of a girl when she left with Giovanni Sforza and she came back a woman—a woman who had escaped him and charmed a king on the road leading home; had saved Juan's sorry life on the field of battle, no less, and Rome from invasion. Back then, when he and Juan still had the occasional brotherly heart-felt conversation, Juan had told him what a vision she was, sailing across the field in her regal blue gown and cape on her magnificent black steed, between his army and the deadly cannons of King Charles to broker a fine act of diplomacy, on the cuff and out of her love for her brother, first and foremost.

Juan...Juan...Juan...

"Argh!" Cesare grunted his frustration out loud as he pounded the table with his fist as he thought of his dead brother—the brother he had killed by his own hand. He wiped a tear angrily from the corner of his eye and then shut them tight as he forced his thoughts back to his sister. Yes, his sister, who had saved Rome again when she used her knowledge to dispel the cantarella from their father's body; the woman who had helped garner good-will between her own mother and her father's mistress and then worked with them, plotting in concert to do something selfless—by calling the consistory to task and obtaining the necessary funds to bring water to the poor children of Rome. _Oh, father, how powerful would you truly be if you'd take even one lesson from our dear Lucrezia_ , he wondered bitterly.

His sister: the woman he loved impossibly, more than any other on God's green earth or ever would. How had they come to be so cursed? And so blessed—for she was his blessing, no matter what laws or the confines of the familial ties that bound them together dictated. She loved him and that fact constantly and simply astounded him every time he was reminded of it; every time she smiled at him; gave him a word of encouragement; expressed her solidarity with him, verbally or by silent gesture—a look in her eyes, the soft touch of her hand upon his—a million small but profound ways that she showed him constantly that she was always there for him in any way that he might have need of her. It was crushing, the weight of their love for one another, but he would never have had it any other way.

A headache was growing and he realized that he was exhausted...and hungry...but he wanted neither sleep nor food. He leaned forward in his chair, put an elbow on the table and a hand to his temple and tried to massage it away. At that moment Lucrezia entered the dark kitchen.

She stopped in the entryway and looked at him, expressionless, and said nothing; he looked up at her and said nothing, as well. She put her bucket down and went to the hearth and lit it; then she got a flask of water, a plate and a loaf of bread and set it, wordlessly, before him; next she retrieved a pear and peeled it, and put it on his plate. She gave him a look then that reminded him of their dear mother when she was at their angriest at them and too hot to speak words—he knew that Lucrezia meant for him to eat, whether he felt like it or not for she could see his need. Cesare took his hand away from his temple and sat up at attention, like a scolded schoolboy. Lucrezia retrieved her water for washing up then went to the entryway and looked at him again—and waited. When Cesare at last picked up the bread, broke off a piece for himself and began to nibble on it she turned and finally left him in peace.

Some time later she came back down, dressed and carrying the carafe of wine he had brought upstairs earlier. She poured out a goblet and set it before him. She was happy to see that he had indeed eaten a goodly portion of his food but made no show of her delight.

"Lucrezia..." he rose from his seat and approached her slowly. Just then there was a knock at the back kitchen door. Cesare's hand went immediately to the hilt of his sword and he withdrew it from the scabbard decisively. "Identify yourself!" he barked angrily at whomever it was who dared to be on the other side.

"It is me, Cesare—Micheletto..."

Lucrezia rushed to the door and opened it hurriedly. "Micheletto! Micheletto!" she took the startled man into her enthusiastic embrace. Micheletto hugged her in return and looked his bewilderment over at Cesare.

"What is this, my Lady?"

"I am so happy to see you..." she managed before she began to cry. Micheletto looked again at Cesare, helplessness registered in his eyes, further confused by Cesare, who stood immobile in his spot on the floor.

"Come, my Lady, sit at the table and tell me what troubles you," he said gently. He looked up at Cesare when she was seated. "Your Excellence."

Cesare only nodded his greeting at him, a frown on his face.

"Are you both alright?" he ventured.

"Oh, Micheletto, please pardon my outburst—I truly am happy to see you, that is all," she said as she began wiping away her tears.

Micheletto could not hide the look on his face that showed that he knew better, but he asked nothing else. He looked back at Cesare. "I have just come from Castel Sant'Angelo, Your Excellence—the Countess is...alone now."

"Ah," Cesare answered him, understanding him to mean that Rufio was dead. "And how did you leave her?"

"Greatly distraught."

"Cesare? What's going on?" Lucrezia spoke to him finally.

"I must go to her, Lucrezia..."

"I can see that," she answered him, noting the look of concern on his still stern face.

"When I return we will talk, sister," he reached an apologetic hand out to her which she accepted with one of her own and a silent nod of recognition. They released each other. "Micheletto..." Cesare put an appreciative hand to his shoulder, "thank you." Cesare nodded his goodbye at them both and left.

"Well, Micheletto—it's to be you and I then—please sit and tell me how you are! Come—can I get you anything?" She made to rise and prepare him some food. Micheletto put his hand to hers and shook his head at her lightly.

"My condolences to you, my Lady—please sit, and tell me that you are well."

"Thank you, dear Micheletto—with time I will be. Now, no more of this 'My Lady' nonsense—you might as well have been born my brother. As a matter of fact, if I could I would ride with you both, fight alongside you, share in your triumphs and victories..."

"Ah, but it is not all triumphs and victories, surely you know this."

"Yes, sadly, I do...still, I would wish to experience it all with you."

"You mean to say that you wish you would have been born a man, my Lady?"

Lucrezia shot him a reprimanding look.

"Lucrezia," he bowed his head and smiled his correction at her.

"Micheletto! A smile from you! Please do not take offense, but I hazard to say that I've never seen one on your face before—it is simply astounding..."

"My Lady...come now..." he began, slightly embarrassed.

"I do not mean to be forward or impolite, but that smile affects me in the most wondrous way—please do it more? At least around me? And it is Lucrezia...better yet, sister."

"As to your request, I will try to comply, little sister; as to you being born a man, I cannot imagine a world without the generous and loving Lady Lucrezia Borgia in it."

"Ah, but I did not say that I wanted to be born a man—I said I wanted to fight beside you...as a woman...as myself, Micheletto; a warrior—a woman warrior, like the Lady of Imola, the Tigress of Forli..." The admiration in her voice was unmistakable and quite reverent.

Micheletto's thoughts went to the the Countess then, imprisoned; broken, alone—waiting for His Holiness to suffer his visit upon her. "The grass is always greener, little sister—of that you must be mindful."

"That I understand, Micheletto, but surely for a woman there must be some happy medium between salting herself away in the lonely bed of a convent or that of a husband's, which can be just as lonely, or worse, cruel."

Micheletto's heart went out to her for surely she was thinking of Giovanni Sforza. "Some women are blessed to find a husband who truly loves and cherishes her, Lucrezia, and a life of true fulfillment, as well," he took her hand into the comfort of his own.

"Maybe." Her thoughts went to Cesare then and she found that she could say no more about that subject. "However did I catch you up into such conversation, Micheletto? Please pardon me—I find of late that my thoughts are truly all over the place. Where have you been, Micheletto? Cesare and I have missed you so..."

Micheletto stifled a smile, that, had he inflicted it upon Lucrezia, would have sent her into real shock and amazement. "I had personal matters to attend, little sister," he said simply.

"Ah, then say no more, it is not my intent to pry. Really, are you not hungry? Can't I get you something to eat? To drink? Maybe you'd like to rest? Take your pick of a room, Micheletto, and take your comfort?"

"I am fine right where I am, little sister. And I await Cesare's return for he will have orders for me."

"Yes...orders," she said as she slipped a bit into sadness.

"And how are you, really, Lucrezia? When will you return home? I'm sure little Giovanni misses his mama..."

"The end of the week...for Alfonso's requiem mass. And then what awaits me I have absolutely no idea...but I can imagine."

"You mean His Holiness...and his next ambition for you."

"Yes, they are that, are they not? His ambitions. Why does he bother with me at all, Micheletto? I think the Holy Father should husband his infernal alliances himself and just leave me out of it...if I can be married by proxy, well, then shouldn't all the rest of it be by proxy, as well? I'd like to see someone set _that_ precedent—marriage, consummation, and all the rest, by proxy—that would be something to celebrate, indeed...and to see. Why, I'd sit behind a black lace curtain, gladly, munching on marzipan as I watched—better yet, charge admission to the public—that would surely contribute to the Vatican coffers nicely."

Micheletto let out a hearty guffaw.

"Oh, Micheletto! Your smile is divine, but that laugh! I've changed my mind—since riding into battle with two of the men I love most in this world is not possible, I must endeavor to find a way to ensure that I hear your laughter more often."

"Your wit is wicked...and sweet, Lucrezia...I believe that you will meet your goal with great success."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She heard the lock being undone and feared that he had decided he could wait no longer to inflict his sure humiliation upon her. She was surprised, then, to see the son instead of the father walk through the door. She stood up up from her chair in the corner of the room then, her face puffy and her eyes red from crying tears over Rufio and her predicament.

Cesare said nothing as he closed the door behind him then faced her again.

"Well...say something, Catalan. Or have you come for first pickings at your father's conquest?" she asked through a bold sneer.

"You are a conquest, for sure, Countess; and you are a treasure—but not one destined to be locked away forever—or harmed by my hand. You should know that the term of your prison sentence rests entirely with you. Make something easy on yourself for once: comply with Pope Alexander and you will be free to go on with your life."

"So that you may rule Romagna in my stead. Oh, the bonds between powerful fathers and their sons, and the destruction that is wrought upon the world because of them," she snorted her disgust at him.

"To be fair, we did seek from you a more peaceful solution to this problem..." he began firmly.

"Yes, of course—the problem of a woman in control of her own existence—spare me your contrived and delusional justifications, Cesare Borgia, there has been nothing at all fair in this enterprise and the charges against me are trumped-up, as you well know..."

Cesare was unable to stifle an incredulous little laugh. "That you can say that with a face so straight—acting of the finest caliber, my Lady; it seems to me that a lucrative career on the stage awaits you upon your release." His laughter only raised her ire more.

"I certainly signed no documents renouncing my fiefdoms—your forthcoming duchy is ill-gotten and you know that, as well. Fair? No, there was nothing fair in this at all," she said through her tightly clenched jaws.

"We could argue forever, Countess, but we will spare ourselves this pointless quarrel. There was a battle; there was one who lost it and one who won—it could have gone either way."

"Ha!" She was beyond insulted then. "The cards were stacked against me and we all know it: the Sons of Rome; a Borgia Pope—a Borgia son; and the most important player of all that sealed my fate for certain defeat..." Caterina lifted her skirt slowly.

"Caterina, stop this..." Cesare said as he took pity on her and reached out to still her hand. The look on his face was salt in her wounded soul.

"I do not want your pity!" she railed at him. Cesare went to her and took the tormented woman into his arms and held her as she sobbed into his chest. She looked up at him and he was sure that he saw a flash of surprised appreciation in her eyes.

"You are a great lady, Caterina; you will survive this," he spoke his words with love and tenderness.

"And you? How will you survive?" she asked him quietly then, a concerned look on her face. "After the Pope draws his last breath, Cesare Borgia, how many battles will you win then?" she asked, with ice in her heart and daggers shooting at him from her eyes.

Cesare gave an exasperated grunt as he pushed her violently away from himself in outrage, for she had found the sorest spot within him and hit her mark with expert and deliberate dispatch.

"What are you, in league with my sister?" Cesare muttered disgustedly under his breath as he rolled his eyes hard in his head.

"What was that, Your Excellence? Do speak up, please, for I would not miss any part of the answer to that question."

"Thank you, Countess, for your kind well-wishes," he began, his voice tight and clipped, "but I do not need my father's favor to excel in this world."

"You _are_ delusional, Cesare Borgia," she said incredulously as she backed away from him, "and proud—pride goeth before the fall, you know," she smirked at him.

"Spoken from one with experience, I know that," he shot back at her.

Caterina smarted inwardly at his rebuke but gave no hint of it outwardly. "Was it pride that made me defend my lands? I think not."

"And I think so, Countess: pride, over being a woman in control of a man's domain..." he began hotly.

Caterina turned her back to him and headed away from her corner, searching the room for something to bash his head with; Cesare rushed her, and violently took her in hand back to face him.

"Yes, pride, that kept you from marriage so that control would not be usurped; pride, that kept you from a simple request to yield—peacefully—to His Holiness, the Pope of Rome..." he grunted at her.

She wrested herself free of his angry hold upon her. "No..." she hissed her denial at him; she tried to back further away from his reach but Cesare frustrated her goal by bird-dogging her every step.

"Yes..." he continued menacingly as he advanced ever closer to her, "pride, that sent you to the top of a tower to hang yourself—a legendary death—I think you called it?" he grunted at her, nostrils flaring. "Pride—and the fact that you go against the natural order of things, my Lady...and now, here we are." Cesare stopped then, with only mere inches between them.

"As _you_ go against the natural order of things, _Spaniard_. You have the favor of the Sons of Rome now, Catalan, their grudging favor; they will turn on you one day, as surely as they turned on me—it is only a matter time."

Caterina was surprised to see a change come over him as the menace on his face gave way to something else entirely; she could not name exactly what it was but the grimace on his face had disappeared and a calmness seemed to wash over him. Cesare breached the divide between them then, his approach as intimate as a lover; the gleam in his eyes directed at her was so full of passion that it literally took Caterina's breath away and a little gasp escaped her; he leaned dangerously closer in to her, then took her neck into the strong grip of one hand and pulled her face roughly and closer to his own; he looked intently into her eyes and a kiss seemed imminent, but he cut his eyes away from her and the menace which had been on his face manifested itself then in the whisper against her ear. "Your concern for me is touching, my Lady...but I know well how to root out those who would betray me...and dispatch with them accordingly." He drew slowly away from her, her throat still held hostage in his firm grip, the promise of his words burning into her eyes from his own.

Caterina leaned back into him then, their bodies only a hair's breadth apart, their lips even closer. "An endeavor that requires most persistent application, to be sure, Your Excellence...good luck with that..." Her sarcasm came at him softly, through a wicked little smile upon her lips.

The gleam in Cesare's eyes turned murderous then, as well as his grip, which became tighter upon her lovely, fragile neck; Caterina could feel, and see, the intensity of his inward struggle; the war of desires that would have him either unloose her throat or let his other hand, which had already risen and was poised to join its partner, assist it in choking the very life out of her.

"ARGH!" came his explosive grunt at her, his eyes shut tightly, his whole body shaking with rage.

Caterina was sure she was about to draw her last breath when his other hand finally wrapped itself about her throat and resigned herself to her fate; she wanted death, preferred it surely over that which lay in store for her at the hands of his abominable Unholy Father; she closed her own eyes in relief. She was surprised then to feel his grip loosen as he rested his forehead tormentedly upon her own. She dared to look upon him and saw through the silent contortions being exercised upon his handsome face that he wanted to speak words, but was completely unable to form any, and for reasons she would never understand her heart went out to him.

"Cesare..." she dared to murmur his name, "what is this? How is this? That you manage to confound _me_?" He opened his eyes then and looked into hers and in them she saw apology; a deeper regard for her than she thought possible of him; and the determination of his spirit to see his destiny through to its end.

He gave her neck a rough little shake and his smile at her was a sad one. "I...often confound myself, dear Caterina..." he said at last. He pulled away from her then. "You have minutes only to decide what you will do with this," he said gruffly as he went to the door and opened it; facing it still he turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder at her. "Your man is dead, as you well know; you have the cover of darkness and a half hour before the guard comes next to check this lock—which will be locked—and your escape not evident until your breakfast is delivered in the morning. Should you decide to walk through this door know this: whichever way it may go I will disavow any knowledge of your escape and deny any claim of assistance, upon pain of death—by my sword run through your heart, should you dare to betray me—do you understand what I am saying, Countess?"

Caterina was almost too shocked to speak.

"Countess—an answer!" he barked at her. Caterina's feet moved her with a will of their own as she lumbered toward him, feeling as Lazarus surely must have when Jesus called him forth from the cave.

"Yes, Your Excellence; either way this may go I shall never betray you..." she said in a daze. She heard the crisp snap of Cesare's cloak as he threw his arm out to receive her.

"Make haste, my Lady..." his tone was kinder then.

Once they were outside of the apartment Cesare re-bolted the door and then led Caterina to a secret passage, which led down and out of the castle to the Elian Bridge, where his horse and another were waiting for them. He rode with her just beyond the first copse of trees far beyond the city walls and stopped.

"The only way I shall ever move forward upon Romagna is if you do not—you make it back to Forli, Countess, and I shall renounce all claims upon it..."

"Your father, Cesare—he will never..."

"You leave His Holiness to me," he looked away from her and off into the distance, "...there are plenty of other castle walls I may yet knock down, my Lady."

"Cesare Borgia—" In her voice was the command for him to look upon her, which he did.

"Yes, Countess?"

"I cannot begin to tell you..."

Cesare nodded a silent reprimand at her through closed eyes and a bite upon his bottom lip; when he looked at her again his only response was to give a smack to the rump of her horse which sent it like a shot away from him and from Rome.

"Godspeed and success to you, Caterina Sforza..." he said quietly to himself as he watched her disappear from sight, "and change my destiny if you will."


	8. My Brother, Myself

When Cesare returned to Orsini Palace dawn was breaking; he came through the back door in the kitchen half-way expecting to find Lucrezia and Micheletto still at the dining table waiting for him; instead the old cook and his apprentice were hard at work preparing a hot breakfast and both of them jumped as he came bounding through the door.

"Your Excellence, will you have a hot meal this morning?" the old man dared to ask him.

"Uh...I will not but I shall see to my sister and find out if she is well enough to dine...excuse me..."

"Yes, Your Excellence."

Cesare went to the stairs and looked up with great longing; his heart had already abandoned him and gone before him to find his sister, but his feet refused to follow. He went instead to the great room and found Micheletto, asleep on a divan that he had pulled closer to the hearth, where embers were burning their regretful adieu. He went quietly then to chair in the seating area of the far corner of the room and settled himself delicately as he leaned back into his own exhaustion; as tired as he was he found that sleep had no use for him. He reflected, then, on all of the events of the past three days of his life before his thoughts settled on the image of Caterina Sforza, racing away from him into the early morning of their shared yet unknown destinies.

"Ah, but you do look a fright..." came his slick, smug voice. Cesare, startled quite effectively by the interruption of his thoughts, looked up and gasped when he saw the one before him. "What is it, Cesare? Do...tell..." the one said to him as he walked out of the shadows slowly and deliberately, his gait as cocky as the tone of his voice.

"Juan?"

"Well, who else?" He took a seat opposite from his brother. "What is it?" he said as he made a great show of smoothing out his rumpled, bloody clothes before looking back at Cesare. "It must be something good to draw me out of _my slumber_ ," he threw his head back and gave a silent laugh at his own joke.

"There is nothing amusing, here, Juan, least of all you," Cesare said sourly.

"Really, brother? I'm dead and you're the one with the attitude? What a wonder you are, indeed," he sniffed his insult at him.

"Quiet yourself..." Cesare nodded his head angrily in the direction of his sleeping friend.

"What? Him? Please—he's sleeps the happy slumber of a killer with fresh blood on his hands; he's less present than I am, brother," Juan assured him. "So—what have you done? Out with it, already, for I find this reversal of our roles rather pleasing—father might have been surprised at what might have happened had he put me in cardinal's robes instead of you." Cesare shot his brother foul look, but Juan, unfazed, smiled back at him. "Come now, brother—confess your sins to me..." his tone was hypnotic and kind enough that Cesare's hard gaze softened then gave way to his visible shame; he leaned forward in his chair, clasped his hand together and shut his eyes tightly closed as he struggled to get out his next words.

"What I have done...what I am feeling—I can never give voice to the thoughts in my head to another living soul."

"Then you'd better talk to me, brother."

"All hell should be breaking loose at the Vatican right about now—Caterina Sforza has escaped." He looked upon his brother then.

Juan cocked his head at his brother in reprimand.

"Yes, I set her free," Cesare confessed under Juan's knowing glare.

"And why...did you do that?" Juan asked him with a sneer on his face and a voice full of pure disgust.

"I find it hard to express except to say that I would have a sign at this point in my life," Cesare defended himself.

"A sign? Of what, Cesare?"

"That I am following my true course. All of my life I have abided our father's will; a son he wanted in the church and to the church I went even though my own ambitions would have had me far removed from the scarlet and the purple; I married, to fortify his stronghold even though it pits me actually against Lucrezia and Gioffre; I wait now to take the Papal Army—but what becomes of this short career when he is no more? Winning the favor of a Pope is difficult at best when you are not the fruit of his loins-and sometimes, even when you are," Cesare said with a twisted smile upon his lips. He hated confessing his fears to his brother but found it cathartic and let out a heavy sigh of relief in spite of himself.

"What you did, brother, was let a _woman_ get inside of your head and plant doubts within you—you let her _poison_ you with all this talk of love and self and freedom and now you're about destroy it all, ruin yourself. Go ahead—I knew you had it in you to be me—go ahead and fail our father—it is no surprise to me that you could do it so magnificently. You and Lucrezia deserve each other."

"You! You always hated Lucrezia! Why? What did she ever do to you? I would know the answer to that question of you if I never learn any other, Juan..." Cesare whispered his torment at his brother through gritted teeth.

"If you have the nerve to ask that, brother, then you should go on to your grave in ignorance," Juan replied viciously.

"Why, Juan? Tell me!"

"I loved you, brother! I loved you!" Juan's words issued forth with a finger pointed at Cesare in accusation. "But you always had your head so far up Lucrezia's arse you could see nothing else; where was your brotherly love for me? Tell me! No, all you ever had for me was your jealousy; your criticism; your scorn—when all the time you were coveting my affections from our father...my position. You learned so much at Pisa? Wonderful. Did you share any of that knowledge with me? Cesare Borgia, soldier extraordinaire..." he hissed at his brother. "You might have given me some useful criticism on the floor instead of your derision and constant endeavor to embarrass me in front of my men every chance you got."

"Is that how you saw it, brother? You instigated the lot of our very public skirmishes and you know it. If you had so little confidence in your abilities as Gonfalonier you should have gone to our father and demanded remedy for it. The worst he could ever have done was to say no—and I know well what that sounds like coming from our father's lips, brother, but I never let it deter me from the asking!"

"And you would have liked that, would you not? To see me shame myself further in front of him?"

"You see, that I never understood; for one who had his unconditional love—you should have been able to ask of him anything, Juan—and without any shame, at all.

"I didn't want what you had because you had it—I wanted it for myself, independently of you. I was not in competition with you, Juan, not for you appointment as _Gonfalonier_ or for the affections of our father—I would have happily fought beside you, but _he_ denied me that—he denied us both that. He has always had the talent for pitting his children against one another even as he claimed his love for us all. And he does...love us, in his way...but it has not come easy or without great cost. I regret that for us both."

"Lovely," Juan gave weak applause at him. "All so much water under a Tiber bridge. The issue at hand now is your ruination. So...you let the bitch go—what now, Cesare? You've had a short career but so far quite glorious, even I can admit that. If the Lady gets back to her castle and fortifies her forces what is the point to all that you have accomplished thus far? You have success now; your methods are necessarily ruthless but your governance has always been favored by the people over their treatment by the local anarchy..."

"Let her have her lands—I'll disband the Swiss Infantry..."

"If she makes it back to Forli and you disband the Swiss Infantry none of the rest of that sorry lot would stand a chance against her...it would all be ended..."

"What does any of it matter? I spend as much time watching my own back as I do fighting my enemies before me—Colonna and Orsini are worse than children in their play pen, ever at odds with one another, plotting against each other even as they fight together...and against me, as well."

"Then you deal with them, you and your man, there..." Juan pointed over at the sleeping assassin. "Put them out of your misery, Cesare...father would be ended if you abandon your campaign now."

"Yes, he would be." The two men stared each other down.

"Where would you go then, Cesare?" Juan asked him finally. "Father would be ousted, you would be a disgrace and prison would await; what of your wife and child? Our dear mother? Gioffre? _Saint Lucrezia_? I mean really, I would be clear about this."

"And by 'clear' you mean to know if this is truly something I endeavor for myself..."

"Of course."

"I'm clear about this: my child I've not even held in my arms; my wife would not miss me–they would both be safer without me..."

"I don't think that's quite true, Cesare...and Gioffre?"

"All Gioffre needs is a bigger prick—and a more loyal wife to tend to it—and you would know something about that, would you not, brother?" Cesare gave a smirk at Juan.

Juan ignored his brother's insult and replied only with three words. "Mother and Lucrezia..."

Cesare sobered. "I would help them to escape..."

"To where, Cesare?"

"Exile..."

"Not the wisest course..."

"The New World, then..."

"Even less wise than exile. And you think that you've thought this all through, have you?"

"I can make no such claim, Juan," he admitted honestly.

"I hazard to say that is an understatement brother. This is all folly, pure and simple—coming to sure fruition, no less. And the New World? That is a good one, Cesare; even if you dared, you would be as happy walking the earth unknown and out of your element as I would be able come back to walk the earth at all. Stop deluding yourself, brother. If you're as tired of it all as you think you are, well, I've a nice soft spot for you, right next to me...I could even make enough room to accommodate our dear sister. Or she could just lie atop your body for eternity—that should make you both so very happy. Otherwise, release your man there to go after the Sforza bitch and kill her, once and for all."

"I...will not do that."

"Then you are a bigger fool than I ever was—and more dangerous."

"Juan, do not taunt me so viciously. I am talking to you plainly, now, as a man who has fears—am I not allowed to feel fear? Apprehension? I am looking into the most horrible truths of my life and my way does not seem as clear as it used to be—I would have a sign, brother, to set me back upon my proper course then make the needed readjustments accordingly. Whichever way it goes I will know, unshakably, that what I wish to attain is truly for me and me alone, however difficult it may prove for me to actually be able to attain it..."

"Hmm...the Great and Horrible Cesare Borgia, admitting to being a mere man. Well, that was certainly worth coming back for," Juan harrumphed.

"If only you had been able to do the same thing, Juan Borgia, you might still be here," Cesare leveled at his brother through a steely glare.

"Well, that's neither here nor there now, is it brother? I'm sorry it's so hard to hurt the feelings of a dead man, but it truly is one of the better perks—you'll find out one day. So...you have your less than well-thought out plan to look to, in case the Papal shackles that continue to bind you to our father should dare to become unloosed—bravo to you," Juan began with mock admiration, "and you do what if your Saviour falls short of that goal? Just to be clear..."

"Then I take Romagna as planned but I put my faith no more in the hands of fickle Pope's—even my father's; I make haste to find protection for my sister in the guise of a loving and suitable husband; I make a journey to see my wife and gaze upon the face of my baby daughter and I would do it quickly; I abandon his mad dream of primogeniture; I find my success in a manner that would better ensure it."

"Father is well, Cesare; he is robust, still, and in command as ever of all that he surveys."

"That may be, but when I walk into the Vatican I feel murderous eyes upon us both..."

"Really, Cesare, is that a new development? Murderous eyes were always upon us..."

"I fear for him Juan, as well as myself."

"Ah, fear again...so boring, that..." Juan yawned at his brother accordingly.

"Maybe to you."

"So...what happens, brother, either way, when your beloved Lucrezia finds out that, before her pet of a husband's unfortunate accident, you had planned to have him murdered. Do you fear that?" Juan's concern was clearly mocking.

"She will never be troubled by that revelation—the only other who knew of anything of that is dead," he raged at his brother then.

"Ah, but brother, everything in the dark eventually comes to the light, does it not? Look at me..."

"I'm looking at you—and you are but a figment of my over-wrought imagination, a product of my exhaustion—my guilty conscience," Cesare admitted.

"And you have so much to feel guilty for, brother...I'm glad that you know it."

"I'm tired of talking to you now...sleep...I need sleep, that is all...and you will go away," Cesare scowled at Juan then and waved him dismissively away as he put a hand to his throbbing temple.

"Are you sure, brother?" Juan gave a contemplative tilt of his head, scratching at the bloody shirt upon his chest where Cesare's blade struck him first that fateful night on the Elian Bridge. "That last bath in the Tiber...something got in here, I think—very definite and quite real, brother..." he took Cesare's hand and placed it over his heart, "...itches like the devil, especially when I think of you—and I think of you often...terrible way to spend eternity, trying to find my ease with this..." Juan pulled Cesare close and the brothers locked their eyes heatedly upon each other; Cesare yanked his hand away as if he'd been burned.

"Ah, nothing to say to that one, eh brother? Cesare?"

"Cesare...Cesare..."

Cesare woke to find Micheletto rousing him gently; with great concern reflected on his face and under his furrowed brows he spoke in a hushed yet urgent tone.

"Wake up, Cesare, you are in the throes of bad dream..."

"Micheletto..." Cesare was groggy and disconcerted;he had a horrible crook in his neck that his hand went to immediately.

"My Lord...I...heard you calling out the name of your brother...Juan..." Micheletto said uneasily.

"Did the bastard answer back?" Cesare asked through a disgusted half-smile. Micheletto said nothing. "I need proper sleep is all..."

"My Lord, I've had word from the Vatican; not even a half hour ago a soldier rode here to report that Caterina Sforza has escaped her confines within Castel Sant'Angelo..." Micheletto waited for orders he knew were not forthcoming. "I see, then."

"Do not judge me, Micheletto," Cesare bristled immediately.

"After everything that has transpired between us? I am not even capable of that," he responded simply.

"Yes, I set her free and this is a thing between you and I, Micheletto, no one else..."

"You know better than to even say it. But...tell me why?" The look on his face was made up of pure shock.

"I told you not to judge me..."

"I am not judging—I'm trying to—to understand..." Micheletto said quietly.

"Let us just say that, of late, my peace of mind has been like so much sand on a beach, eroding with every lap of the waves against the shore, soon to disappear as if it had never been. The outcome of the Lady's escape will help me restore it, Micheletto, and will answer some very definite questions for me and set my destiny clear."

Micheletto cocked his head at his master, but said nothing further.

"Was there any other news?"

"No." Micheletto looked long and hard at Cesare before he spoke again. "You carry the all of the burdens of a good and dutiful son, Cesare, but you must find a way to take your ease."

"I am neither of those things, Micheletto, but as ever, I appreciate your faith in me," Cesare said then.

"Then rest your faith in me now...I will ride to Forli..."

"No Micheletto! I will not have you lift a hand in this!" Cesare took violent hold of Micheletto's arm then.

"That is not my intent—I go only to watch—and report—to let you know if the Countess achieves her goal or not, that is all."

"Promise me."

"Upon my life, Cesare."

Cesare loosened his grip upon his arm and nodded at his friend.

"It is less than day's ride—we shall know either way and soon—to your bed, Cesare—we should know something before mass on Friday, I am sure of it. Stay here and do not venture out again until you have heard from me. You promise me..." Micheletto demanded then.

"You have my promise, brother."

Micheletto gave a bow of his head at Cesare. "Then I am off, Cesare Borgia, to see how your destiny may play out."

With that Micheletto left him and Cesare went, finally, to his Lucrezia.


	9. Unquenchable

He entered their suite quietly and found the hearth long dead and the room cold; he gazed upon the bed and saw that her body, buried under a sumptuous coverlet of gold and maroon brocade, was hidden from him, her golden locks splayed upon her pillow the only evidence that she was there at all. He went to the entryway between the anteroom and bedroom and leaned his weary bones against it as he undressed.

She stirred slowly and turned over to face the direction where she heard the sound of buttons popping as he ripped off his doublet; she raised up slightly and her sleepy eyes met his and noted the scowl upon his face as he watched her watching him continue to undress.

He tore his shirt angrily away from himself and, upon his freedom from it, threw it violently upon the floor; he worked on his pants next and when he was finally naked he leaned back against the entryway, crossed his arms about his bare chest, and continued to stare at her.

Lucrezia was unsettled under Cesare's stony glare and was reminded of the morning after her wedding, when she had met the same look in his his eyes as he stood next to their ecstatic father; she hadn't been able to read him then and found herself again in the same uneasy predicament. What had happened, she wondered, between the time he'd left her the night before to that moment? What was responsible for causing that look upon his face at her? She wanted to ask but found that her tongue was frozen and unwilling to comply with her weak desire to actually do so.

Cesare could see the hurt in her eyes and he was indeed, angry, but not angry at her. He was greatly affected by the venomous words of his brother that had assaulted him in his dreams; and though the conversation had felt so very real, he was angriest most at himself for hiding his doubts behind her—and within himself—in the guise of his conscience parading as a dead man in a nightmare. Secrets he hated to keep from her, and there were a host of them already, but he could never reveal the cause of his truest angst or his shame to her; he was simply trying, at that point, to speak no words at all, rather than utter even the hint of a wrong one.

She wondered what he was waiting for and why he had bothered to come back to their suite at all; there were plenty of other rooms for him to take his rest if he was so angry at her and had she been able to get her tongue to work properly she would have told him to do just that. Was he going to stand naked in the cold morning glaring at her forever? Was he going to open his mouth and at least give her a parting word?

They continued to stare each other down; she was surprised to find that her eyes were devoid of tears even though her throat choked-up and made her breathing labored; still his eyes were locked onto hers and still she found him impossible to read. She shut her eyes tightly closed, unable to hold contest any longer; when she finally opened them again she found no change in him. Lucrezia resigned herself then to their silence but would not look upon that face another moment longer; she turned over and away from him and pulled the cover tightly about her fearing that she had felt the last of his loving touch, sure that she would never know it again; it had come, at last, she realized—the moment of her final heartbreak; she waited to hear him do the thing she had always dreaded most—walk away from her and never return.

Suddenly he was upon the bed beside her.

"What, sis? Are you wishing me away? Praying to God for deliverance and relief from me?" he asked her menacingly as he took her violently in hand and turned her over to face him. "You would turn away? From me?" Lucrezia struggled to try and sit up but Cesare kept her easily pinned down at his mercy, with a scolding look in his eyes at her. "You will answer me..." his tone was a threat that incensed more than frightened her.

"I would turn away from your anger, brother—let me go..." she demanded.

"I'm not angry at you..."

"I find those words difficult to believe, considering your vicious hold upon me..."

"Lucrezia..."

"Are you done with me now? I realize that I was wrong to say what I did last night, Cesare—you are a soldier born; your will is your own, of that I have no doubt and I should never have spoken otherwise. But if it is your intent to leave me then just do it and be done—and start now!" she railed at him as she struggled anew to free herself from his strong grip.

Cesare gave her violent shake to still her then put his forehead to hers and looked deeply into her eyes. "Stop your struggling, sis, it only arouses me more..." His words and the tone of them, combined with the look in his eyes were all dangerous enough to cause Lucrezia to let out a shocked little gasp and comply.

"But I thought..."

"Ah...you require more discussion on the matter, I see..." he said as he closed his eyes and gave a little shake of his head against hers. "Very well...you shall have it..." He looked upon her again as he broke away from her, then very resolutely pulled her up from beneath him; he got off of the bed and guided her to sit upon her knees as he stood behind her. Lucrezia was unnerved by his manner and although he still seemed angry at her she was more than pliant in his hands. He pulled her up before him then grabbed her hair gently to bare her neck; he bent it then, just a little too savagely to her liking, to the side. "This is going to be quite the one-sided conversation to begin with..." Cesare took his other hand and started a caress on her outer-thigh that slowly made its way to the inner, "but jump in any time you find yourself ready sis," he admonished her brusquely before he kissed her neck and simultaneously possessed the warm, waiting wetness between her legs and gave it a loving massage.

Up to that point all of their intimate moments, though filled with great passion, had been sweet and subdued: their stolen kisses and lingering hugs had been stifled for fear of discovery; their most daring interlude on her wedding night to Alfonso had been joyous yet also reverent; and so too had their lovemaking been over those three days, even locked away from prying eyes in blessed privacy. Lucrezia had not imagined that there could more ecstasy involved in the realization of their physical desires, so happy she had been that they'd been able to express them fully, at all. She had learned much from her experienced teacher and had enjoyed every lesson, many of which had been salaciously playful. But his manner at that moment was new to her as were the wicked sensations coursing through her body; his rough words and rougher handling both appalled and excited her to the point of feeling a new ecstasy, feverish and almost unquenchable and she wanted more of it.

"I feel a question forming, sister..." he grunted at her; he heard her orgasmic little sighs erupting from her lips and felt her body become even more alive under his brutal attention.

"Cesare..." she moaned at him in a swoon.

"See what happens when you turn your back to me, sis?" He put his hand at the small of her back and pushed her roughly over on all fours. "You wanted to know if I was done with you..." Cesare murmured as he took her perfect ass cheeks, one in each hand, and kneaded them expertly, greatly enjoying the view of the river that raged further beneath her; he was hard enough that he did not need his hands to assist him in answering her question. His first stroke was hard and punishing. "Do I feel like I'm done with you, sis?" he asked her even as every powerful thrust into her confirmed that he was not.

Lucrezia felt like she would die if he did not stop filling her up with so much pleasure but was unable to get the words out to tell him as much. She felt Cesare take hold of her slim hips and begin to work her to his will, but slowly, and found it to be a welcomed respite from his previous assault of love. She settled into his sweeter rhythm and soon matched it well enough that he took his hands away and left it all to her. And then suddenly the punishment began again. Lucrezia shot up and put her arms about his neck to brace herself further; she managed to calm him enough to turn her face to his and kiss him.

"I love you, Cesare," she gasped as she rode him out.

"And I, you..." he groaned at her, never missing a beat, his hands cupped at her breasts.

"I could die this way, Cesare...is that possible—to die of pleasure such as this?" she moaned at him then.

"Unfortunately, no..." he whispered into her hair.

"If I were to let go of you now my limbs would give out..."

"Then do not let go..."

"Cesare...oh..." Lucrezia found herself overtaken by him under another orgasmic wave. "I don't think I can take any more, brother..."

"I assure that you can and I promise that you will..." he murmured softly at her, "now hush, dear sister—I'm not done with you..."


	10. The Sign

"What were we arguing about?"

"I do not remember."

Cesare and Lucrezia lay in bed spent and happy, each facing the other with devilish smiles of pure, irrepressible delight.

"Shall we solve all of our disputes this way?"

Cesare took one of her hands and gave her forefinger a playful bite. "Will there be more?"

"There is always the possibility that there could be, brother."

"Then I think that would be wise."

"The things we have done together over this past week..." she began tentatively, "I shall never do with another man, Cesare."

"I don't expect that of you, sis...and you will change that feeling should you dare to meet a man special enough." Cesare's smile faded as he cast his gaze downward.

"You know that is not possible, my love, to meet a man more special than you are to me."

"It is also not impossible—I would...desire that for you, Lucrezia...for there to be a man like that, present in your life," he said cautiously, "to give you all of the love that you deserve."

Lucrezia lifted his chin and kissed it, then sought his eyes out with her own.

"I would like to believe that you mean that, but you cannot even look me in the eyes when you say it, Cesare. I would have that man be you. If he cannot be then whomever I may be next forced to marry will have my affection—if he is kind to me; will have my respect—if he treats me as one who possesses a brain and realizes that my sex does not make me an inferior being; he will have my body—because the laws of marriage dictate it; his children, I could love easily; but my whole heart will forever belong to you, you must know that. Whether I am betrothed next to an honorable man or a brute, the moments we have shared here can never be touched—or duplicated—by him or any other and they will last me for the rest of my life. I know that you will have other women beside me and your wife, I understand that a man has his needs; I'm sure that I will have mine—I am a Borgia, too..." she tweaked his nose playfully.

"Relief, dear brother...it would be relief only, for me; for the need that every body requires to be addressed...bread and water to sate me when I would lose myself instead in the exquisite delights of a banquet feast. That is what you are, my love, it is simply a fact. I know your heart wishes me happiness, but please stop trying to convince me that I will find it truly in the person of any man who is not you. And I will be arrogant enough to do the same regarding your women."

"It is not arrogance, my love..." he assured her with a tender kiss to the top of her breast.

"Ah..." she moaned as she clutched his hair at the nape of his neck, "if you keep that up we shall never get out of this bed today..."

"Who wants to?" he murmured before he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of that day and evening Cesare and Lucrezia left their bed only long enough to take nourishment in the kitchen, wrapped only in sheets as they sat across from each other at the dining table awash in soft, dancing candlelight.

"I don't know what it is about this place, Cesare, but Juan haunts me here, in my dreams..."

Cesare almost dropped his goblet of wine at her words, but recovered quickly. "Really, sis? How so?"

"Well, for the past three nights or so he has been in my dreams; he is always a child, Gioffre's age, and much attached to me, as if he were my own son."

"And you? Are you a child, as well?"

"No, I am this age. As a matter of fact, both he and Gioffre are as my sons."

"Am I there?"

"Well, yes and no; neither you or mother or father are there, but Gioffre is at once himself in body but you, also."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's so strange. And the two of you are so sweet together, playing at swords or sitting at my lap to hear stories. It's all been so very sweet, these dreams. I wake up wishing he had retained that part of himself as a grown man and find that I miss him." There was a sweet smile upon her face a she played at the stew in her bowl that she had warmed up for them.

"You miss the best part of him. It is nice to be missed," Cesare managed.

"Why do they hate us so, Cesare?" she asked him then, the wistful smile at the remembrance of their brother gone from her face. "All of the cardinals have children, other Pope's before father, as well; simony is not a thing our father invented nor is he the only one who was ever accused of it; they all seek to cushion their personal bank accounts with funds from the Vatican coffers, and have done it—look at what mother, Giulia and I went through trying to get water for the poor children! Roman children! Why do we suffer so much scorn from all of Rome? Felice della Rovere is just as illegitimate as we are, yet she moves with ease and finds herself wide berth in all of the aristocratic houses of Rome—what are we so guilty of?"

"Felice della Rovere is Roman; her father is not Pope; he has the good sense to distance himself from her—but her freedoms and acceptance in the Holy City do not come without price, Lucrezia—he is cold and calculating—and a huge hypocrite—her father. And his coldness actually ensures her success. Especially in the event that he achieves that which he wants most—to see our father dead and gone from the Papal throne, himself seated in it in his stead.

"More than that, father does not burn Jews and Moors at the stake. So they say our Spanish blood is further polluted...and call us Jews and Moors; monkeys; and say that we are not fit to rule Rome and good Romans. And that is the real and only difference between our father and the Pope's who have ruled before him and the Cardinals who sharpen their knives and dream of stabbing him in his back every second of every day," Cesare told her bitterly.

"I have upset you, and I'm sorry for that, brother..."

"Then make me feel better, my love, and come kiss me...for there is nothing on this plate that will satisfy the hunger that gnaws at me now more than you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning they indulged in a proper and languid bath together and by afternoon had taken to their horses for fresh air and a ride about the grounds. Upon their return Cesare saw someone riding toward them and knew that it was Micheletto.

"Lucrezia, Micheletto approaches—would you mind going ahead and have the cook prepare a hot plate for us all?"

"No, my love, gladly..." she rode away from him with a smile on her face and wave to Micheletto as he drew closer.

"Your Excellence..." he said when their horses were beside each other.

"You have news." Cesare braced himself.

"She was captured last night, Cesare...she escaped the soldiers in the woods by seeking refuge with her brother-in-law, Lorenzo de Medici—he has a legal dispute with her over the custody of her son, Giovanni—he turned her in. She is back at Castel Sant'Angelo under heavy guard."

Cesare looked away from Micheletto and off into the distance for long while before he spoke.

"Thank you, brother," he put a hand to Micheletto's shoulder, " Lucrezia awaits you in the kitchen with a hot meal and a kiss—go ahead, please—I'll be along shortly."

Micheletto only gave a silent nod and then hastened away to leave Cesare alone with his thoughts.


	11. His Last Free Sunset

When Cesare entered the kitchen he found Lucrezia and Micheletto at the dining table enjoying a hot meal together and engaged in easy conversation.

"Cesare—what took you so long, brother? Come, have some supper..." Lucrezia rose from her seat to prepare him a plate.

"No, thank you, sis, sit back down. I have no appetite at the moment," he said as he joined them at the table. Lucrezia settled back into her own seat but with a worried look upon her face.

"Micheletto tells me that mother and Giovanni are situated in our apartment at Castel Sant'Angelo and awaiting our return," she brightened up a bit.

"Yes, I'm sure that you're eager to smother your precious little one with a thousand kisses," he smiled at his sister.

"To start, yes," she smiled back at him.

"We really could take our leave tonight then, Lucrezia, don't you think?" he asked her then.

Lucrezia was torn between her desire to spend another night alone with him and the practicality of being back at the Vatican, reunited with her baby and also able to properly prepare for Alfonso's requiem mass without the added inconvenience of same-day travel.

"Just say yes, sister, for I know where your heart truly lies," he prodded her gently.

"Yes, that you do," she said soberly. "Excuse me then, I must go and get my few belongings packed for the trip home." She rose from her seat, gave Micheletto a warm kiss to his cheek and then left them.

"Is she truly alright, Your Excellence?" Micheletto asked him when she was gone.

"She will be...in time."

"So...you are ready to—" he began hesitantly.

"I am ready," Cesare cut him off. "The Bishop of Triani truly requires assistance, Micheletto; as my trusted lieutenant I really do need you to return to Forli..."

"I can go tonight, after I escort you and Lucrezia home, Your Excellence..."

"No, Micheletto, get yourself a good night of sleep after we return to the Vatican and travel in the morning; it may be another week, less if I can manage it, before I'm able to return to my campaign, and I need you there until I do, that is all. And make time to see your dear mother before I return, and give her a warm hug from me."

Micheletto bowed his head. "I will do that, Cesare. What time do you wish to depart tonight?"

"I think I would like to enjoy a last sunset here before we go; as long as we get in before midnight, I would say—the mass is to be at ten in the morning, plenty of time to attend to certain business at hand with my father and get some sleep as well."

"Very good, then. You go and have your sunset—I shall have a little nap in the great room and then have the carriages ready by ten, yes?"

"Yes. Rest well, brother."

Micheletto gave a bow and took his leave. The old cook came into the kitchen then.

"May I be of service, Your Excellence?"

"No, thank you. You'll be rid of us tonight, soon to be reunited with your master again. To your quarters when you're done here, and thank you again for your kind service. A little something for you and the boy—for your trouble." Cesare handed the man two heavy velvet pouches holding two hundred ducats each.

"Thank you, Your Excellence! Thank you!" the man said with wide, appreciative, unbelieving eyes as he bowed and backed away. Cesare left him and headed for his sister.

He went first to their suite but did not find her there; he dared then to go to the one she had shared with her husband and found her standing in the doorway, looking at the stripped bed and the bloodstains still upon the mattress.

"Sis?" he approached her slowly, his concern for her evident in his voice, "Sis? Lucrezia..." He reached for her and without turning to look at him her hand met his then wrapped his arm about herself.

"They should have burned that..." she said softly. "But they left it—as an accusation against me..."

"No, sister...no..." he hugged her tightly to him.

If Cesare had known that it was still there he would have had it burned before she ever dared set her eyes upon it again; but when he took her out of that room on that night everything about it had ceased to exist for him; the only thing that had mattered that night was to get her out of there and ease her pain as much as it was possible for him to do and now, here she was, immersed in it all over again. He vowed to have someone put to the rack for leaving the abominable thing behind.

"Come away, Lucrezia...come away, my love..." he coaxed her, but she would not be moved.

"It has been a week, Cesare; I understand from Micheletto that not one member of his family has come from Naples to see him to rest. Not one. Alessandro Farnese is to be his Chief Mourner. A man who did not even know him. They hate us that much that they would work such an ill upon a dead man? It is beyond my understanding, Cesare."

"Yes, Lucrezia, the ways of death and grieving are complicated. Who is to ever understand? Surely his family grieves him even though they are not present. Did they not accuse us of dancing on Juan's grave at your wedding? They did. Did we? No, we did not."

"But didn't we, brother? You and I both hurt father immensely with our sentiments at the time. And how awful of me is it that I don't understand such a thing until it touches me personally?"

"We, each of us, grieved him in our own way and went on with the things that had to be done, Lucrezia," he said gently but also firmly.

"My wedding—it was a thing to be done, indeed..." she said bitterly. "My wedding should have waited. This boy—my husband—should have someone in his family present to say a final goodbye. These are the awful facts, Cesare. Alfonso was a Prince of Naples and he's being handled like...like a Borgia Bastard."

"Guilt by association, hmm?" Cesare said sadly. "Come away, sis, this will not do you well, not at all. Your son awaits you; your mother's and your father's loving arms await you. Damn everyone else—Alfonso will forever be honored in your loving memory, he will have that. Come away with me, sis, and let us go remember them both, Juan and Alfonso, to the glorious sunset."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride home had been a fairly quiet one; Cesare had been as lost in his own thoughts then as he had been when they stood together on a fourth-floor balcony of the palazzo watching, what he'd felt, was his last free sunset. Many of the questions he had sought to answer for himself were no clearer than before, but he was at least of the conviction that his path forward was true.

Lucrezia had resumed her endeavor to finish packing her meager belongings, the majority of which had accompanied little Giovanni on his trip home to her mother; soon thereafter it was time to ride. Where Cesare's path was at least illuminated, her own was bathed in only in discomforting darkness. What did her future hold? What plans had her father been hatching for her while she was away? What strange political bedfellow had he wooed and won that she would next have to call husband?

She pushed that thought from her head and concentrated on her love beside her, who had been content to keep his attention to her restricted to his loving but silent embrace. On to the Romagna, for him, and who knew what other principalities. She realized suddenly that her astounding talent at forgetting him when he was away was no more than a matter of self-preservation; a survival tactic; a defense mechanism that she must employ so as to be of any use to herself or anyone else, rather than be consumed with crippling worry and longing for him.

"Well, brother, you promised me a week, but I shall be happy for our past four nights together," she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness, as she dared to break the silence between them; they were nearing the Elian Bridge and their time alone would soon be very much over.

"I promised you a week, sis, and a week you shall have," he took her chin in hand and gave her a sweet kiss upon her lips. "No matter what business there is that will surely rip us away from one another tonight—you _will_ wake up in my arms in the morning," he said when their lips parted as he looked his promise intently into her eyes with his own, "and any morning thereafter when I find myself home and under the same roof with you, Lucrezia, whatever roof that may be; without explanation, excuse, or apology—we will stand in no one's judgment; when I am home you are mine—no matter what and no matter who—repeat it to me..." he ordered her gruffly. His voice full of passion for her and defiance against anything that would deny them thusly.

"No matter what and no matter who—when you are home I am yours alone, Cesare."

He hugged her to himself tightly then, as a man drowning in a vast sea who has found and anchor suddenly before him to take hold of and save him from sure death; he clung to her just as desperately and did not let go until long after their carriage had finally stopped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anxious to see his children upon their return, Rodrigo waited with Vannozza and Giovanni inside the immediate entrance of the Basilica. When Cesare and Lucrezia entered through the doors, with Micheletto bringing up the rear, his joy was immediate.

"Vannozza, Our children are with Us again, at last!" their father's commanding voice boomed out and echoed down the hall at them. "Lucrezia, my Lucrezia—come to Us, my love..." Rodrigo raced to his daughter with outstretched arms and took her into his firm embrace. "Daughter, Our deepest condolences..." he kissed the top of her head. "How do you fare, Our darling girl?" he asked when he released her and looked into her misty eyes.

"Thank you, Holy Father..." her voice faltered then and she buried her face into his chest as the tears came. Giovanni, who had seen his mother from his grandmother's arms began to squirm and fuss for his own release at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, yes, she is here, she is here, Giovanni..." Vannozza cooed at him as she took the babe to his mother.

"Hello, my love...your son will not be denied any longer...Lucrezia, my love..." Vannozza called to her daughter softly.

Lucrezia broke away from her father and hugged her mother even as she took her son into her arms. "Thank you, mother, for everything..."

"Of course, my love..." her mother stepped away as Lucrezia cradled Giovanni in her arms and lavished him with sweet, gentle kisses.

"Come, everyone, and let Us enjoy this happy reunion in Our apartments..." Rodrigo made to usher them all away.

"Holy Father." The challenge registered in Lucrezia's voice stopped everyone in their footsteps and they all turned to face her. Cesare, Vannozza and Micheletto could each tell, by the sound of her voice, that Lucrezia was not of easy disposition; the worried expressions on each of their faces as they looked to one another confirmed it; Rodrigo only looked mildly befuddled.

"Yes, daughter? Does something trouble you?"

"You call this a happy reunion when a man lies dead and cold upon a slab? Awaiting a funeral so unbecoming a Prince of Naples and final audience with his dark, lonely grave." Her tone was cold and her gaze upon him was colder. Rodrigo appeared undone at her effrontery.

"Lucrezia, you are aggrieved and not yourself," he blustered at her.

"I am most definitely myself, Holy Father."

Cesare tried to catch her gaze with his own but Lucrezia kept hers settled upon her father. All she could think about at that moment was the silent death sentence Rodrigo had issued at her in the confessional when Cesare had gone off to conquer Forli. She refused to have his ever-apparent lack of regard for her husband, and therefore, herself, be tolerated yet again.

"We...We do not understand, daughter, what it is that pains you at this moment..." Rodrigo managed with difficulty as he made to approach her.

"I shall tell you, Holy Father." Again, the power and vehemence behind her words stopped him in his tracks. "I will not sleep this night until you tell me what my immediate future holds, since it is not mine to decide."

"Lucrezia...surely this is not the time or the place to discuss such things... tomorrow, after mass..." he tried to dismiss her with a smile and a wave of his hand to come join him and away.

"It may not be the place, Holy Father, but it is most assuredly the time."

"Then let Us take up this conversation in Our apartments, daughter," he suggested then, his own anger rising to the level of hers.

"Cesare has the Romagna to command; Gioffre oversees Squillace; mother has her interests to keep her busy—what is there for me to look forward to, Holy Father? For myself and my child? I would take this up now," she told him defiantly.

Rodrigo was visibly taken aback and shot insulted glances at Vannozza and Cesare seeking some form of agreement, silent or otherwise, that Lucrezia was behaving in a most ungracious manner. He saw no such corroboration of his feelings whatsoever upon their faces. He turned back to his daughter.

"Then at least have Giovanni taken away and spared the heated debate We are sure is forthcoming," he demanded of her.

She stood ever undaunted before him, his rage seeming only to cause her to become even calmer. "Giovanni stays with me, Holy Father—he shall never be forced away from my arms again." It was a declaration of war.

Vannozza looked as if she was about to faint and took hold of Cesare's arm for support.

Micheletto, standing beside him gave no hint of emotion upon his face, but silently applauded Lucrezia's brave resolve against her father. _Yes, Lucrezia, you most definitely could have been my sister born_. Against his own will a slight, but proud, smile formed on his otherwise stoic face; he hoped that she had seen it but would fault her not if she hadn't, for like a good assassin, her target was centered and her aim was sure—she meant to kill the spectre of her unknown future and end its plague upon her.

"Alright! Alright! We would have you and your household away to Rocca di Nepi, Lucrezia, and We have secured a governorship for you there. Does that sound like a Father who cares not for His daughter? Why must you find it necessary to try Us in such a manner?" he railed at her.

"Until?"

"What do you mean, 'until'?" Rodrigo asked her then as he tried to comport himself.

"Until you enjoin me to another brute of your choosing—how long is my sentence, father?"

"How many times must We apologize for Giovanni Sforza?" he asked her then, in great torment.

"Our Holy Father need not make further apology—only ensure his daughter that she must not suffer an alliance such as that again, otherwise she would be content never to marry again and die in Nepi, unbothered, in the happy company of her child."

"Lucrezia..." Rodrigo unrooted himself from his spot finally and went to offer a hug in truce but Lucrezia side-stepped him and walked away.

"Thank you, Holy Father, for your indulgence. I shall take to my apartment now for I am tired and require time alone with my child. Good night."

They all watched her walk down the long corridor, take the stairs and disappear from their sight.

"Argh!" Rodrigo grunted his exasperation as he pounded his own fist. "What has gotten into her?" he directed at Cesare then. "You are the cause of this! You've had a week alone with her to fill her head with God only knows what infernal notions!"

"I have done no such thing, Holy Father. Lucrezia Borgia is very much her own woman. You would do well to remember that," Cesare sneered his defense at his father.

"Oh!" Rodrigo gave a dismissive wave at the air in frustration. "We have things to discuss, Cesare."

"Of course, Holy Father—to your quarters, then?"

"Yes...yes...come," he motioned at his son irritatedly to follow. "Goodnight, Vannozza," Rodrigo gave her a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Cesare did the same.

"Goodnight, mother."

"My love."

Vannozza watched her two men and Micheletto as they took their leave. "Wine...copious amounts of wine..." she muttered to herself as she headed to her own apartment.


	12. In His Loving Arms

Cesare had dismissed Micheletto to his bed and was with Rodrigo in the antechamber to Rodrigo's bedroom; Rodrigo was seated behind his desk as Cesare paced the floor before him.

"Nepi, Holy Father? Is it even finished?" Cesare asked angrily.

"It is and ready to be gifted to her. Do you doubt her abilities to govern, Cesare?"

Cesare stopped in his tracks and faced his father. "You and I know well that Lucrezia could rule a city, country or His Holy Father's Vatican, that is not the issue—why would you send her to that desolate place? There aren't even three thousand people to administer to...she'll be alone..."

Rodrigo rose from his seat and leaned across the desk at his son, livid and unwilling to suffer another display of dismissive disrespect from yet another child of his own. "Have you forgotten her dead Prince, who lies in the Chapel of Santa Maria della Febbre, awaiting his final disposition? Have you!" he raged at his son. "You may not hear the rumblings of discord with your own ears, Cesare, but rumors are gathering themselves as pervasively as any thunderheads you've ever seen over Rome—the scope of this scandal goes beyond measure and We would have her away from here! If We could send her away tonight We would but We would not suffer her sure wrath at being denied final audience with her dearly departed. She will be dispatched immediately after the funeral and We will not endure one complaint—not even the hint of a complaint about it, are We understood?" he hissed at his son.

"Yes, Holy Father," Cesare said through tight lips.

"A week, it has been, with no explanation, not even an official inquiry as yet; the outrage has not been given voice, but it is a present and tangible thing, Cesare, We assure you. We are doing this for her sake." Rodrigo's eyes remained locked on his son's even as he comported himself and took his seat again. "Now...there are other matters to discuss, Cesare. Before you return to Romagna We shall elect twelve new Cardinals to the consistory..."

"Twelve! Ha!" Cesare reared back from his father, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "How in the world..." he began incredulously.

Rodrigo gave his son a sly smile. "There is a precedent—surely you must know that We checked with Burchart before We undertook this endeavor. They are a worthy and fine selection, We assure you..."

"I should hope so..."

"And six of them...are your kinsmen..."

Cesare found it necessary to take a seat upon that heady news. "That brings the count of my cousin-cardinals to ten, does it not?"

"It does. They are needed now, more than ever with the advent of your departure."

"Of course."

"So, Cesare, your plan—you will take hold first..."

"Of Pesaro, Holy Father. I must see to Forli as soon as possible, however..."

"Yes, of course. We would have you know that We have been negotiating with France—she has pledged her support of you, Cesare. The French Ambassador will be here in three weeks—you will escort him from Saint Spirito and into Rome."

"Yes, Holy Father."

"Regarding the office of _Gonfalonier_ of the Church, We shall bestow your banners in a quiet ceremony the day after the burial of our dear Prince—does the suit?"

"Most assuredly."

Rodrigo gave a satisfied but tired sigh. "We would have sleep now, my son, We are certain that you require rest, as well."

"Yes, Holy Father, thank you. Goodnight." Cesare turned to leave.

"Cesare."

He turned to sound of his father's commanding voice to find Rodrigo standing with his arms outstretched. He went to his father and received his warm embrace.

"We love you, my son...my Cesare...We can never say it enough..." he whispered softly into his son's ear.

"And I, you, father," Cesare returned sincerely.

"In the morning then," his father smiled as they broke away from each other.

Cesare gave a slight bow and headed directly for his sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare had gone to Lucrezia's apartment knowing that sleep would be as much a stranger to her as it was to himself. She had let him in quietly.

"Giovanni has been quite fussy—I only just got him to sleep, Cesare, do be quiet..." she had admonished him in a whisper as she let him in.

"Then call your nurse and come with me—we must talk."

"Go and wait for me, then, I shall be along shortly."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So soon? No chance to even enjoy a visit with our mother?" she asked him, crestfallen.

"I'm afraid not, sis."

"Well." Lucrezia was outdone.

"I shall escort you..." he began desperately.

"No, Cesare, you must receive your banners; you must return to your campaign. If I am to be alone...I would prefer to be left to my solitude without remembrances of you haunting my every moment; your lingering presence would only add to my discontent. No, it must all be new and untouched or I will never survive it," she told him sadly.

"Lucrezia..." he went to her and took her into a firm, apologetic embrace.

"It's alright, brother; Giovanni deserves a stable anchor to host his crib, as does my own bed. I am in mourning after all, am I not? And mourn I shall."

"I am losing you—I feel it in every bone in my body," he moaned into her hair.

"You will never lose me, Cesare. I must simply resign myself to these current state of affairs, that is all. I _should_ be away from our father now or I shall be driven to a most deliberate and murderous act of my own." Her voice was quiet and as disassociated as her gaze at him.

"You do not mean that," he said tormentedly as he took her face into his hands and looked his reprimand into her eyes.

Lucrezia burst into tears then.

"Lucrezia, my love..." As he cradled her in his arms, his heart was breaking for them both.

"I must... go on to my lonely bed, brother," she managed through her tears.

"No, stay with me...I promised that you would wake up in my arms in the morning... we must finish out our week, do you not agree? I would not see you in a lonely bed tonight, sister," he told her firmly. "Come with me..."

He led his despondent sister back to her apartment.

"My Lady, Giovanni still sleeps," her nurse informed her quietly when they entered the salon.

"Thank you, Miracella, you are dismissed," Lucrezia told her tiredly.

"My Lady," the nurse curtsied at her and made haste away, uneasy under Cesare's menacing glare as he stood behind his sister.

"Come, sister," he took her hand and led her to her bedroom.

"Cesare, I..." she began to protest.

"To your bed," he told her firmly.

Lucrezia went and stood before it.

"Out of your gown, then..." he instructed her; he turned her around and began undoing the laces at the back of her dress; after she let it slip to the floor he turned her to face him. "Lay yourself down..." he helped her into the bed and secured the cover over her. He came out of his doublet and then lay upon the bed as she turned to face him; he took her hands into his and kissed them both then put his forehead to hers. "I promised you a week and a week you shall have, sister, no argument, my love...even though I would do more I would have you know that just holding you now is ever enough and _everything_ that I desire..." he whispered at her.

Silent tears sprang anew to her eyes. "I love you, Cesare...you shall never lose me," she managed to whisper back at him.

"And I, you...close your eyes now and sleep my love."

Lucrezia wanted to gaze into his loving eyes forever but was finally overtaken by her exhaustion and escaped her torments, at last, in the loving arms of Somnus and her beloved Cesare.


	13. Trouble

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia, my love..." he whispered softly to his sleeping sister.

Lucrezia found it hard to open her eyes; she felt the presence of another between herself and Cesare and realized that it was her son fidgeting excitedly against her bosom. "There is no finer moment I would have this day to help ease my melancholy than to wake up to my two loves..." she said as she cuddled her son then looked over at Cesare.

Cesare smiled his affection back at her.

"What time is it? Dawn has not even broken..." she said as she looked over to the window.

"Giovanni was fussing in his crib, quite outdone and missing his mother...we had quite a lovely conversation—and a change of your clout, huh, little nephew?" he cooed at the boy.

"Did you, now? And just what did the two of you discuss?" asked Lucrezia, her eyes full of amusement.

"Oh, well, we talked about things men are wont to discuss: the state of Italian affairs; the best strategies for breaking in one's hobby horse; the beautiful golden-haired woman who belongs to us both, lying oblivious to us equally, in her bed."

Lucrezia chuckled. "Really? Giovanni is not even big enough for a hobby horse yet."

"That's what I told him, as well, but he assured me that he does indeed have his heart set on a very particular one, made of fine Ceylon cedar with a chestnut mane and leather and gold reins..."

"Oh, he does? Is that right, Giovanni?" she asked of her smiling son.

"But he grew tired of me and insisted that he would take that, and the issue of breakfast, up with you." Cesare kissed the back of the baby's head and then his sister's forehead. "It is just as well, my love—no matter how chastely we slept this morning we cannot have the servants find us this way, hmm?"

Lucrezia nodded her reluctant agreement.

"A half-hour to sunrise, at the most; I shall be able to retire to my own room and have a nap, at least, for I've been content to lay here beside you and look at your angelic face...and think the happiest thoughts I shall be blessed to think for quite some time to come."

"You've been awake all of this time?" Her voice registered alarm.

"Happily. I will see you soon at the chapel, sis...good morning..." he dared to kiss her lips then, with great passion and longing. Their eyes lingered upon each other for a long while after he broke away from her at last; he kissed the top of Giovanni's head tenderly and then wordlessly left them both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Lucrezia sat in her pew in Santa Maria della Febbre she was struck by the loneliness of Alfonso's flag-draped coffin before the altar, made even lonelier by the small number of attendees in the chapel. It seemed a sad affair to her indeed, with only herself, her nursemaid Miracella, Giovanni, Vannozza, Giulia, Alessandro's mistress, Silvia, and Cesare in attendance. She knew that her father would not officiate the mass, but that he did not even come to her before its proceeding annoyed her to no end. He could hide behind the excuse of his Papal duties, but she was to leave Rome immediately after the mass and he had not even come to say goodbye to her.

In less than an hour all the words had been said by a priest who had never known him and only Alessandro Farnese, who had not known him either, walked behind the coffin to its final disposition. As Lucrezia made her way down the aisle out of the chapel Giulia stopped her.

"Lucrezia...I am so sorry for your loss, my love."

Lucrezia handed Giovanni to Miracella and then accepted Giulia's warm embrace. "Thank you, La Bella." Lucrezia looked askance at her dear friend as they released each other. "What is this? You have the glow of woman with a divine secret, La Bella."

"I do have a secret, and it brings me much joy even as my heart breaks for you now, Lucrezia."

"You...you are—with child, La Bella?" A little smile broke across Lucrezia's face.

"I am!" Giulia checked herself as she looked down at the floor in embarrassment at her inappropriate display of joy.

"I dreamed of babies and my brothers as happy children the whole week I was gone, La Bella—and it was all really about you, it seems—congratulations, my love. Is your child—to be a sibling of mine?" Lucrezia asked delicately.

"Yes."

"Does our Holy Father know? Surely you have told him..."

"Not yet, Lucrezia, and I seem to waver within myself as to whether I will actually do so—Giovanni Capece has provided me every happiness—we are to be married next month."

"And I will not be here to see it," Lucrezia said sadly. "I feel nothing but joy in my heart for you, La Bella, you have more than earned this happiness."

"Your words I know to be true, my Lucrezia, but I know you—your heart is heavy and your blood boils for all of us whose hearts have suffered the abuse of your determined Holy Father; but believe me, dear one, he will do right by you, I promise you that—he did for your dear mother, did he not? Provided her with not one, but three fine husbands, Lucrezia! Who loved her, each and every one. He has provided me with a man I shall go to my grave loving with my whole heart, even as Rodrigo himself resides within it, as well. He will do the same for you, Lucrezia, for I heard from his own lips that your next husband must be more worthy of your heart than of his political desires—from his own lips, my love...wait—what do you mean you will not be here?"

"I love you, Giulia Farnese..." Lucrezia kissed Giulia's lips. "I do appreciate your hopes for me and I do not doubt that the words you heard Our Holy Father say were spoken, but they are only words, after all. It matters not what type of man he hopes to enjoin me to, or if he is worthy or not—to put me forward for another alliance is to deny my son my bosom—you know this. I would prefer to never marry again and die and rather than suffer the forfeiture of my son again," she said sadly.

"Lucrezia, my love..."

"Go on to your happy life, La Bella—it does my heart well to know that someone in this family shall truly have one. When your little one is born, give him or her a loving kiss from me and their cousin Giovanni." Lucrezia gave her confused friend another kiss as a single tear fell from her eye and then hastened away with Miracella and Giovanni in tow. Cesare, who had been watching them from the corner of his eye, broke away from his conversation with his mother and Silvia and headed for his sister. He was approached then and stopped by Johannes Burchart and a man unknown to him.

"Your Excellence, I am Ambassador Ascanio Liverotto..."

Cesare shot the man an undignified look. "Whoever you are, you will excuse me..." he made to continue to his sister.

"Your Excellence, your presence is required now for an informal inquest of the death of Prince Alfonso of Naples," the man continued.

"What?" he snorted his surprise at Liverotto and Burchart both.

"The family of Prince Alfonso seeks understanding and closure to his most unfortunate end, Your Excellence, surely you can understand? His Holiness and the Consistory await, Your Excellence." Burchart intervened.

Cesare only gave them both a scathing look. "You will excuse me to go and say goodbye to his aggrieved wife." He left them.

"Lucrezia? What is it?" he asked her before she got to the chapel doors.

"It is time for goodbye, Cesare, is it not?"

"Not in front of all of these eyes..." he made to lead her away.

"No, brother, we will say goodbye here—it is far safer for my heart for me to do so now—if I have a moment alone with you I will never be able to leave. A chaste, familial kiss to my cheek now, brother, your love and best wishes, and I shall do the same—for all of these eyes upon us."

Cesare was almost speechless at her insistence and resolve; his eyes darted about to the others in the chapel, casting his anger and frustration at suffering their existence in his world at that moment.

"Cesare..." Lucrezia dared to take him by the neck gently and put her forehead to his, "stop this, my love, we are making spectacle enough of ourselves," she cautioned him. "Kiss my cheek and then call our mother over..."

Cesare rolled his eyes hard in his head and let out a grunt of tortured and true dismay; he opened them and looked into his sister's misty eyes, his own still angry and resentful but full of his silent declaration of love for her.

"I know, my love—and I, you," she whispered at him.

He broke away from her at last and did as she had commanded; he kissed her cheek chastely and then looked over at his mother and held out his arm to her.

"What is this, my children? Cesare? Lucrezia? My loves?" Vannozza looked to them both in great despair then took her daughter into her embrace.

"Cesare only seeks to comfort me, mother, and to say goodbye," Lucrezia said against her mother's shoulder.

"Goodbye? What do you mean, 'goodbye'?" Vannozza's confusion was honest as she disengaged from her daughter and held her at a gentle arm's length.

"You do not know, then? He did not tell you." It was more of a statement than a question and Cesare's anger flashed anew in his eyes and upon his face, through flaring nostrils and gritted teeth.

"He? Who? Tell me what?"

"He is sending me away today, mother...now...to Nepi."

"What?" Vannozza's outrage was complete and echoed loudly throughout the chapel.

"It seems our Holy Father is full of all of his usual secrets. Lucrezia's retinue awaits her as we speak, mother," Cesare informed her.

"Lucrezia, my love, I did not know! Why? Why?"

"Why, mother? As with everything—because it is his will." Lucrezia looked from her mother to her brother with vacant, defeated eyes, broke away from her mother and left them both without another word.

"I will throttle him!"

"You'll have to wait until after my inquest," Cesare hissed as he watched his sister disappear with Miracella and Giovanni through the chapel doors.

"What is this, now? Inquest? What inquest?"

"An 'informal' inquest into Alfonso's death. Holy Father awaits me, I have just been informed, along with the Consistory and an agent of the royal house of Naples."

"Just been informed, you say? I...I am..."

"Calm yourself, mother—or try to anyway...I shall come to you when it is done, yes?" he counseled her gruffly.

"Yes, my love, thank you."

Cesare gave his mother a kiss to her cheek and then hastened away defiantly to the Basilica with Burchart and Liverotto on his heels.

"My Lady, what is it?" asked Giulia as she and Silvia rushed to Vannozza in great alarm.

"Did you know of this, Giulia? That Rodrigo was sending Lucrezia away today?"

"No, I swear it, Vannozza—he does not confide in me as he used to—as you well know." The two women looked at each other in recognition, for it was common knowledge that Vannozza and Rodrigo had somehow rekindled their relationship and that he had not garnered a husband for Giulia a moment too soon. "The last conversation I had with Rodrigo was about Lucrezia, but that he had vowed to God in heaven that he would provide a worthy husband for her. I knew nothing of this—sending her away? To where?"

"Nepi...this very moment."

"And what of Cesare? Is there some trouble?"

"I love that boy more than my own life, but with him there is always trouble...worry and trouble..." Vannozza said with quiet frustration to the two women who stood with her looking into the unknown beyond the wide double-doors of the chapel.


	14. Inquisition

"Verbum incarnatum. His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus of that name, calls to order a meeting of the sacred College of Cardinals. In attendance today, Francesco Gazella of the Royal House of Naples, his proxy, Ambassador Ascanio Liverotto, here for the proceedings of this informal inquest into the death of Alfonso of Aragon, Duke of Bisceglie and Prince of Salerno of the House of Trastámara. Also in attendance: His Excellence, Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia; Don Aposto Riario, medic; Don Roberto Visoglio, surgeon; Rustighello Zambotto, valet to the late Duke of Bisceglie and Prince of Salerno of the House of Trastámara, Alfonso of Aragon."

After Johannes Burchart called the meeting to order he quickly took his seat at his desk behind the left side of the Pope's throne and settled himself before his parchment; with his quill poised he waited to begin transcribing the ensuing events.

From his throne Rodrigo addressed Ambassador Liverotto. "Ambassador Liverotto, Our deepest sympathies at this difficult time and Our welcome to you."

"Thank you, Your Holiness," the man bowed before him then approached, knelt and kissed the ring on Rodrigo's outstretched hand, then backed away to stand again before him.

"You represent?"

"Alfonso of Aragon's uncle, Francesco Gazella, primarily, Your Holiness."

"Don Gazella was unable to travel to Rome?"

"He was...unable, Your Holiness," Liverotto answered him simply.

Rodrigo shifted in his seat in obvious consternation at the man's refusal to be more forthcoming. "We would like to know if there is a specific reason Don Gazella was unable to come to Rome, Ambassador Liverotto...We are simply...curious."

Liverotto remained steadfast. "I know the reason, Your Holiness. Don Gazella's sentiments are rather caustic and it is not my desire to insult His Holiness."

His statement elicited a shocked little buzz amongst the cardinals but Rodrigo smiled at the man. "We hazard that We very well understand what those sentiments may be, Ambassador Liverotto. Please impart to Don Gazella that We harbor no grudge against him, though he may he against Us, regarding his discontent over the nullification of the marriage of the late Alfonso's dear cousin Beatrice. We are pleased that his family cared enough, at least, to send someone forward in some manner and We welcome this inquest—you may proceed."

"Thank you, Your Holiness, I will impart your sentiments to the family thusly. The royal house of Naples would like an audience with Don Aposto Riario."

How masterful, Liverotto thought to himself, of the Spanish Monster, as Don Gazella often called the Pope, to turn a slight around and impugn those who would hold him responsible for the murder of their Alfonso, whether directly or indirectly; the gentle rebuff that effectively quieted the consistory further proved the Pope's cunning.

Of the four men standing at the back of the room waiting to be called forth, Cesare noted his father's guile, as well, even though he was seething with rage that Rodrigo had seen fit to allow him to be ambushed into the inquest. Riario came forward and took a seat at a small table set up on the carpet between the cardinals, facing the Pope and his inquisitor.

"Riario?" asked Rodrigo of Ascanio Sforza over his shoulder when he waved him gently forward. "Should We be worried?"

"A distant cousin, Your Holiness, but not a political one. He is a man of good virtue and an excellent medic. You can count on his testimony to be true, and better—unbiased," Ascanio assured him.

"Is there anyone in Rome that you are not related to, Cardinal Sforza?" Rodrigo asked him facetiously. Ascanio only smiled as he stepped back to his post.

"Don Riario, you attended to the deceased on the night of his injury and subsequent death?" Liverotto began authoritatively.

"Yes, I did." The doctor straightened up a bit more in his chair defensively as if he was being accosted.

"How did you find him upon your first examination?"

"He was an Italian male; approximately nineteen years of age; of general good health and bearing; inebriated and wounded fatally by the stab of a sword through his thoracic cavity. His condition was consistent with that of one who has fallen onto a sword accidentally as opposed to having been decidedly run through."

"How would one know the difference?"

"Well, you see, in a parry or fight, for instance, when one has been run though violently, the stab wound is generally clean—you puncture—you retract..." the doctor demonstrated the move with an invisible blade. "Or, you stab and then jerk upwards, to eviscerate—a finishing move, you see, to ensure that your victim is assuredly dead..." he stood up to demonstrate again with his invisible blade, then took his seat again. "The execution of such moves require strength and great force of dispatch. The Prince's wound was of no such nature; the entry point of the wound was not so clean, as the blade had been canted slightly; he fell further upon it and upon the bearer of the sword..."

"The bearer of the sword?"

"Yes, the bearer of the sword, His Excellence, Cesare Borgia. Uh...yes, where was I?"

"...the entry point of the wound was not so clean, as the blade had been canted slightly; he fell further upon it and upon the bearer of the sword..." supplied Burchart.

"Oh, thank you, yes—falling upon the sword caused further irregularities to flesh at the entry point and did further damage to his internal organs as the blade shifted its direction from his weight placed upon it as he fell forward."

"How can you be so sure that it was an accident?" Liverotto managed to keep his tone even and clinical.

"As I said, the Prince had been in his cups—and pardon me—he reeked of strong ale, which was quite evident on his breath. Again, his wound was not consistent at all with a battle wound; and it was a sucking wound, you see, taking in air from without the body that is detrimental to the body internally; he was bleeding copiously—he was still alive. A true battle wound would have killed him. Not only that, His Excellence, Cesare Borgia, was greatly and visibly distraught."

Liverotto looked almost pained at that bit of information and quickly directed away from anything resembling compassion from the Borgia Bastard. "Upon further examination what did you find the Prince's prognosis to be?"

"Well, unfortunately, I am not a surgeon, but I hazard that had a surgeon been available it would have done the boy no good; too many vital organs had been ruptured—it was a toss up between infection and the internal bleeding as to which would kill him first. Sure death was the prognosis, sir, I am sorry to say."

"And which one was it that eventually killed him?"

"Most definitely the severe loss of blood, sir."

"How many times did you examine him?"

"The first instance, of course, when I was summoned to the room where he fell; subsequently in the bedchamber he shared with his wife, for most of the night; at that point it was a matter of binding the wound and administering medicine to try and ease the pain."

"And what medicine did you give him?"

"Uh, the usual remedies: myrrh as an antiseptic; yarrow; coriander to try and reduce his fever—to no avail on that, I might add; a stick in his mouth to bite on. The whole of the time I was at the palace the boy was unmercifully conscious and in agonizing pain."

"And his wife, the Lady Lucrezia—where was she all of this time?"

"By his side and assisting me; when she was not assisting me she was trying to soothe him, crying silent tears as she lay beside him. When I was called by the Orsini housemaid to their bedchamber for the last time, the Prince had expired; his wife lay exhausted on a settee in the anteroom, seemingly near death, herself. The Lady was most obviously bereft."

"What time was this, that you found the Prince expired?"

"Approximately two o'clock in the morning."

"And what time was it when you last left him, in agony but still alive?"

"Approximately two hours before that..."

"And you arrived upon the first call to the palace when?"

"The early evening...approximately nine o'clock."

"So...five hours—is it uncommon that such a wound could take so short a time to end a man's life?"

"Not at all—he could have lingered like that for days...or minutes. God was indeed merciful, in the end, I hazard to say."

Liverotto did not look happy, the Pope noted.

"And after his death, Don Riario, what happened next?"

"Well, I was called by His Excellence, Cesare Borgia, to take the Prince's body away and tend to it's final disposition at the Vatican, here, sir; I delivered the body to Roberto Visoglio at Chapel of Santa Maria della Febbre, who prepared it for burial."

"Could you not have prepared the body at Orsini Palace?"

"Partially, yes; the cleansing and initial preparation, but not the embalming, of course. I was alarmed, at first, at the request of his Excellence to take the Prince away..."

"Why so?"

"As I said, only the initial cleansing of the body could have been done by me; I have prepared bodies for burial in a pinch, for peasants who had money for no more than a pine box, maybe; locals in a hurry—as in the heat of summer—again, with not much money but good and sanitary intent. But this was not such a case and the dispatch of the Prince's body to the Vatican was indeed the proper call."

Again, Liverotto looked displeased. "Thank you, sir, that is all. The royal house of Naples would like an audience with Don Roberto Visoglio."

Visoglio passed Riario as he came from the back of the room and the two men exchanged nervous glances. Visoglio, an old man near his retirement from the pratice of medicine, took his seat at the table.

"Don Visoglio, you are a surgeon?"

"Yes, I am."

"You are authorized and capable of performing autopsies and embalming bodies?"

"Yes, I am."

"You embalmed the Prince?"

"I did."

"Did you perform an autopsy?"

"I did not."

"Did you examine his body at all?"

"I had no reason to, sir."

Liverotto turned red and looked as if he would strike the old doctor and Visoglio actually flinched; the consistory began to buzz anew. Against the back wall Cesare's smirk matched the one on his own father's face at the front of the room.

"You. Had. No. Reason..." Liverotto repeated, as if in a stupor.

"No, sir."

"Thank you, Don Visoglio, you are dismissed."

The old man hopped out of his seat with surprising spryness and scurried away.

"The royal house of Naples would like an audience with Rustighello Zambotto, valet to Prince Alfonso."

A young boy, not much older than the late Prince, peeled himself off of the back wall where he had stood beside Cesare and made his way to the table.

"Rustighello, how long had you been in the employ of Prince Alfonso?"

"Since one year before his marriage, sir."

"What was he like to work for, Rustighello?"

"He always did right by me, sir. I was honored and happy to work for him. I've had other masters not nearly so kind."

"Were the two of you close at all? Did he ever confide in you or you to him?"

"No sir, never nothing like that. But he always did right by me, sir." The boy was growing visibly nervous.

"Yes, you said that. Did you ever notice anything different about your master after he came to Rome?"

"Which time?"

"Oh...yes—the first time, when he was betrothed to the Lady Lucrezia Borgia."

"He seemed happy sir."

"And upon his second entry into Rome, after he and his wife had escaped their hostage situation in Naples?"

"Not so happy," the boy admitted easily. Cesare noted that everyone in the room seemed to sit up in their seats and take closer notice; Liverotto looked relieved, as if he would finally find out something incriminating to use against a Borgia—any Borgia—at last.

"How had he changed, then? What let you know that your master was not happy?"

"He was drunk most of the time, sir, day as well as evening."

"Were any of you restricted at Orsini Palace, Rustighello?"

"Only from leaving and going into the city—we all had the run of the palace and the grounds. But he was despondent."

"Well, are there any insights that you can offer, Rustighello?"

"Well..." the young man was hesitant; the hush in the room was such that had a pin dropped to the floor it would have been audible. "Well, he was very close to his uncle, the late King Ferdinand and the King's death upset him greatly—the whole house of Naples had been upset and affected after his horrible death, actually; the events leading up to his cousin's coronation, King Frederigo, were quite horrible, as well."

"A note to His Holiness and all present here today, as many of you may not be aware: there was an attempt made on Prince Frederigo's life before he was crowned—he was poisoned..." Liverotto explained to the consistory.

Again, a ripple of excitement went through the room; some in attendance had heard of the account but to many others it was most definitely news of the most sensational sort, for the rancor between Alfonso's cousins, then Prince Frederigo and Prince Raphael, had almost been the stuff of legend. Rodrigo found it necessary to quiet the room.

"Cardinals, please—let Ambassador Liverotto continue," came his commanding voice over the din.

"Thank you, Your Holiness," Liverotto gave him a small bow and then turned his attention back to the boy. "As we all now know, the Prince survived and became King. Go on, now, Rustighello—do you know of anything else that may have contributed to Prince Alfonso's despondency?"

"No, sir, I cannot say that I do—or did, rather."

Liverotto hated to ask the next question but knew that he had to. "Can you think of anything that brought him joy during those dark times, Rustighello?"

"His wife, I'm fairly sure—the Lady Lucrezia. He was very fond of her little bastard as well, Giovanni," the boy said honestly.

At the back of the room Cesare's hackles were visibly raised; he took an angry step forward but Rodrigo shot him a stern look and gave the slightest nod of his head that caused him to stop in his tracks as the room erupted again, this time in nervous titillation.

"Cardinals! Your attention, please..." Rodrigo's voice boomed out over their less than hushed mumblings amongst each other. The consistory quieted. "Go on, Ambassador Liverotto," Rodrigo leveled a benevolent smile at the man along with a royal wave of his finger for him to proceed.

Liverotto was outdone at the unflappableness of the man but nodded his thanks at him. "Thank you, Your Holiness." Liverotto looked back to the boy and over his head to Cesare Borgia, who was not as unflappable as his father; he couldn't wait to get him in the chair.

"Is there nothing else, Rustighello, that you may be able to shed any light on regarding our dearly departed Prince? His wife and her son brought him joy—how did he fare with the rest of her family?" Liverotto asked delicately.

"Well, I was not privy to his few interactions with the rest of Lady Lucrezia's family, save for her brother."

"Which brother?" Liverotto struggled to hold his temper with the simple boy.

"His Excellence...Cesare Borgia, sir."

"And of those few interactions that you were privy to, how did the two men seem to get along, Rustighello?"

"Not well, sir...not well, at all."

Rodrigo could see Cesare's nostrils flaring all the way from his vantage point at the front of the room; the cardinals let out a collective gasp and tongues began again to wag; again he shot a warning look at his son to be still then addressed the consistory.

"Cardinals! Must We say it again? Quiet! The boy must be allowed to give his testimony! We will not tolerate any other such outbursts—are We clear on this matter?"

The cardinals all nodded their quiet assents at him.

"Very good. Rustighello—" he addressed the boy with his powerful voice then; the boy looked as if he might faint dead away.

"Yes, Your Holiness?"

"You are doing a magnificent job—please take your ease and continue," Rodrigo admonished him with a fatherly smile and an approving nod through closed eyes. Rustighello dared to smile his thanks at him.

At the back of the room Cesare let out an inaudible guffaw at his father's simple tactic which had won the boy over, incensed Liverotto and grudgingly impressed the cardinals; he settled himself back against the wall.

"Rustighello," Liverotto began forcefully, causing the boy's attention away from the Pope and the smile to disappear instantly from his face, "what incidents, if any, can you attest to that corroborate your estimation that the two men, His Excellence, Cesare Borgia, and Prince Alfonso, did not get on well 'at all' as you said?"

"Only one, sir, that comes easily to mind. Prince Alfonso always seemed uneasy around His Excellence, and for that I know not why—both of them always did right by me, sir, as much as you can a lowly attendant.

"It was when we returned to Rome from Naples and just before His Excellence left Rome, sir, for the battle of Forli; I was posted outside of a room in the armory, where my master was training at sword practice..."

"'We'?"

"My master, the Lady Lucrezia, her son, her maid and myself, sir. We had been captive under King Frederigo in Naples, and escaped back to Rome."

"How was that accomplished, Rustighello? The escape from Naples?"

"I'm sure that I do not know, except to say that I saw the village witch enter the palace late in the evening—later everyone in the palace, except my master and his family, had fallen into a curious and heavy stupor—everyone, passed out and slept where they sat or stood—or fell. We walked out, walked right out to our freedom and rode to Rome, sir."

"Who did the witch have audience with?"

Cesare and Rodrigo knew well the circumstances and particulars of Lucrezia's escape from Naples; they both could see quite evidently that Liverotto was trying to cast dispersion on someone— anyone—who was Borgia; so far he had come up empty, but the utterance of the word 'witch' set the consistory to quiet but palpable stirrings.

"I do not know, sir, I had seen her there before, dispensing herbs to the ladies of the palace—her presence was not uncommon."

"But you felt her presence to be uncommon that night?"

"Somewhat, yes."

"Why?"

"Well, actually, I only thought it odd after the whole of the palace fell asleep—it was my suspicion that she had a hand in it."

"At the direction of whom?"

"I do not know, sir."

"Your master? Your lady?"

"I do not know, sir!" The boy was beginning to fray under Liverotto's harsh examination.

"Excuse me, Rustighello, I seem to have gone off on a tangent. Where were we?" he asked Burchart.

"...I was posted outside of a room in the armory, where my master was training at sword practice..." Burchart read aloud from his transcript.

"Thank you. Sword practice—what happened at sword practice?"

"My master saw His Excellence in passing and called him into the room and invited him to spar; the sword-master left them and they, indeed, began to cross swords."

"Did they have words?"

"They did, but I could not hear the conversation, sir, not at first."

"At first? What do you mean, 'at first'?"

"Well, their exchange became heated presently, between intermittent clashes of their swords—enough so that it drew the attention of soldiers passing by and caused the sword-master and myself to look into the room in alarm; I only heard my master say the word 'marriage'—something to that effect; when we looked in we saw that His Excellence had won the match—he picked my master's sword from the ground and handed it to him, said his goodbye and left."

"And how did your master appear to you then?"

"Shaken; out of sorts. He was in bad humor for the rest of the day and..." the boys voice faltered.

"Speak up, Rustighello."

"He was in his cups before sundown, sir, and in the most foul mood; he stayed that way for most of the duration of his time in Rome...at his quarters in Rome and at Orsini Palace, sir."

"Did you ever see the two men in company of each other again?"

"No, sir."

"Not the the night of your master's tragic 'accident'?"

"No, sir. I had retired for the evening, dismissed by my master, and was in my quarters when Lady Lucrezia's nursemaid, Miracella, knocked on my door frantically, on her way herself to see to Giovanni as his mother was busy with the medic seeing to my fallen master. I never saw him again, sir, not even after he passed. Everyone was sent away early the next morning: Lady Lucrezia's son and nursemaid back to Rome and myself back to Naples."

"Thank you, Rustighello, you may go now. The royal house of..."

"Ambassador Liverotto, We think that now would be a good time for small recess, yes?"

"With all due respect, Your Holiness, I have only one more person to question—His Excellence..."

"We are aware of that, good sir, but a small recess is required, nevertheless. Fifteen minutes, Ambassador, to stretch the legs, slake a parched throat, see to one's needs, yes?"

"Yes, Your Holiness," Liverotto conceded reluctantly.

"Very good. Fifteen minutes, Cardinals, and then We shall commence and conclude this inquest." Rodrigo dismissed the consistory but remained in his chair.

Liverotto, Cesare, Ascanio Sforza and Burchart remained as well. Burchart continued working on his transcription even though he was actually noting, with great detail for his own personal record, what was going on in the room at that time: The Pope and his Vice-Chancellor in quiet conversation; the Pope, who never once looked to his son, Cesare Borgia or held private congress with him; Cesare Borgia, who remained against the wall at the back of the room, arms folded across his chest, glowering at Ambassador Ascanio Liverotto, whose own countenance was none too pleasing in return. He was still writing furiously when the fifteen minutes were up and the cardinals filtered back into the room and took their seats.

"Thank you, Ambassador Liverotto, for your kind indulgence. We would ask that you please proceed," Rodrigo directed him.

"Thank you, Your Holiness. The royal house of Naples would like an audience with His Excellence, Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia."


	15. The Secrets That Sustain Us

Cesare walked with defiant steps to the front of the room and stood before his inquisitor.

"Please have a seat, Your Excellence." Liverotto's direction was not kind.

"I shall stand, thank you, for this shall be quick, sir." Cesare made no effort to disguise his anger; Rodrigo shot him a look, which he duly ignored.

"Very well. What can you tell us about the night that you stabbed the late Duke of Bisceglie and Prince of Salerno of the House of Trastámara, Alfonso of Aragon?"

"That sounds like an accusation of murder, sir," Cesare replied hotly.

"Maybe to a murderer it would, but it is simply a question, Your Excellence."

The consistory erupted in shock and outrage.

"Are you indeed calling the Duke a murderer?" a voice rang out.

"We would be clear on this, sir!" cried out another cardinal.

As ever, Rodrigo remained cool, showing no insult or emotion at all; he looked at Cesare as if he was a man he had only just met, then stood and addressed the cardinals.

"We would have silence!" The vociferous cardinals responded at once to Rodrigo's regal command; he addressed Liverotto next. "Now...Ambassador—as one of Our brother cardinals so eloquently stated, We would be clear: either you are leveling a charge of murder against the Duke of Valentinois or you will rephrase your question. Which is it to be, sir?" he asked him with a smile.

"I shall rephrase, Your Holiness," Liverotto said through tight lips. "Your Excellence, what can you tell us of the night of the unfortunate accident where the late Duke of Bisceglie and Prince of Salerno of the House of Trastámara, Alfonso of Aragon, fell upon your sword?"

"I can tell you that he was troubled; inebriated; contrary; he was despondent. I have no insights into his state of mind or that of his discontent. I treated him with the respect due him as a Prince of Naples and honored him as the beloved husband of my dear sister. I deeply and truly mourn his passing.

"I can tell you that I went to the palace that night to see him and my sister both, to let them know that the restrictions that had been placed upon them for their safety were at that point lifted; they were free to go about Rome as they pleased."

"And why had those restrictions been placed upon them?"

"I was going into battle; there was a threat upon my family and it was my intent to see to their protection. I was successful in my campaign and the threat was eliminated—I simply went to tell them the good news. I hoped that it would improve the late Prince's disposition—he had expressed interest in obtaining a commission—as a matter of fact, the night he expressed that interest, he drew his blade against me in front of his wife and the palace guards. He was in his cups that night, as well. I subdued him easily, that night, and told him that I would consider a commission for him upon my return.

"Upon my return he was agitated...and then saw fit to grab my blade and wield it against me; he was more than a capable swordsman, but he was drunk, unsteady—anger clouded his eyes and made his aim unsure as he swung wildly at me—had he been sober he could have surely killed me. I defended myself with my scabbard, knocked the blade out of his hand and him to the ground; I turned my back to him to retrieve my sword—when I turned around he was up and charging at me—and ran into the blade. He fell on top of me; I rolled him over, withdrew the blade and then my sister was there, frantic; I left to retrieve a medic—Don Riario. You know the rest."

"So convenient, is it not Your Excellence? Such a tale," Liverotto fumed at him, "You expect the Prince's family to believe such a tale? Such testimony? From a medic, who purports that he can distinguish from a bit of torn flesh rendered by a blade canted this way instead of that, an accident has occurred instead of murder? From a surgeon, either too old or simply incompetent—or dare we say, too inured to this court, this Vatican, to handle a death of such import in so sloppy a manner?"

Cesare's eyes shot to his father's to see how long he would allow the man to speak such insults; Rodrigo's eyes were cold and his tongue was still as the consistory erupted again, in outrage for him.

"You speak against the Vatican? Blasphemer!"

"Lay the charge or abandon this endeavor!" Cesare heard another cardinal shout out.

"I am not under oath here; yet I have relayed the events as they happened—you may accuse me however you like but we both know you have no such authority to charge or arrest me; if you have found enough evidence to do so then take it up with your King and have him do what he will, sir. Otherwise, this inquest is over," Cesare hissed at him and took his leave amidst the cheers of the consistory.

"Cardinals..." Rodrigo's voice was deep and serious, loud enough to be heard over the cacophony of their defense of Cesare but cold enough to turn blood to ice in one's veins—they quieted and a hush fell over the room. "Thank you." He addressed Liverotto then. "Ambassador Ascanio Liverotto." Rodrigo, leaning back on his throne, hand to his lips as if in deep contemplation, turned his cold, deadly gaze upon the man then, "We thank you for this opportunity to be heard. You are dismissed."

To Liverotto it sounded like a death sentence and he made haste away from the room and out of the very Basilica itself as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You knew this all along and could not find it beneficial to disclose to me, Holy Father?" Cesare was in a rage as he paced the salon floor of his father's apartment.

"Was it better to know or not to know when you had to plead ignorance?" said Rodrigo to his son with a sardonic little smile on his face.

"Argh!" Cesare's own words had come back to haunt him and he did not appreciate his father's turnabout one bit.

"We could not have you appear to have been ready for this and coached to tell a story that could have looked smug and rehearsed, hmm?"

"And this is truly why you had Lucrezia carted away? Does spiriting her away in such a manner not look suspicious in and of itself?"

"We care not how it looks, especially given the fact that she left Rome to grieve her husband and the place of her most immediate tormenting reminders of him—better to have unanswered questions as to the nature of her departure than to have her answers on record of any real questions that might have been be put to her this day had she remained in Rome, Cesare."

"But this inquest was informal—not official, at all..."

"No, not official, but with the potential for leveling great damage. He would have insisted upon questioning her and worked his questioning around to expound on who knows what slanderous seeds of gossip—a charge he could not level, but damage to our reputation he surely could have, and tried valiantly indeed, to do just that. We needed you to be the sour to Our sweet, my beloved son, and We needed Lucrezia to be spared from this entirely."

"She left here feeling abandoned by you, Holy Father..." Cesare said sadly then, calmer than he had been before.

"A necessary evil, my son, that We will make up to her in time. Again, We would rather the populace gossip and conjecture about Our falling out with Our darling daughter than the murderous blood they think that stains her hands and yours. You told the truth, Cesare; in Our own heart We know it was a horrible, horrible accident; We would never have been able to go through with this had We believed even remotely otherwise. Come here..." The two men embraced each other. "It is over now...find some ease, son, and prepare to take your banners tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, Holy Father."

"You will help Us find the best husband possible for your sister—that is how We will begin to make this whole unfortunate affair right with her. We will have your support in that, Cesare?"

"Yes, Holy Father."

"Very good. Until then, back to the business at hand, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good," Rodrigo smiled happily at Cesare as he released him. "We shall see you and your mother at dinner tonight—We have other pressing affairs to see to today."

"Yes, Holy Father."

Rodrigo gave his son a kiss to his forehead and then Cesare took his leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare! What on God's earth happened? I have been beside myself with worry..." Vannozza exclaimed as she ushered her son into her apartment.

"Mother..." Cesare took his fretful mother into his embrace and them sat her down. He told her every detail of the inquest amidst her gasps of surprise and outrage. When the telling was done at last she got up and poured them both generous goblets of her best wine.

"Good Lord, Cesare, this is all too much, yet I am a certain glutton for punishment—what happened that night after the medic left, my son? I truly believe that Alfonso was beside himself and the worst nuisance—he was no man—he and Gioffre both would have been better off as playmates to each other than let loose upon the world trying to command wives," she said disgustedly. "You are holding something back from me and I would have you relieve yourself of that burden." Her tone was adamant and final.

Cesare revealed it all to her; his initial plan to have Rufio kill the boy and the fact that it was indeed Lucrezia who put him out of his misery at his own insistence.

"Have you told your father any of this?"

"No, mother—secrets appear to be a staple that keeps this family alive, it seems."

"She did the right thing in honoring his request—the merciful thing, Cesare, I know you know this. I'm glad Rufio is dead, I'll readily tell you that. And now the house of Aragon should sufficiently let you be. I am surprised by the consistory—happily surprised."

"Do not enjoy their merry approvals too long, mother; they were caught up in the moment, that is all—Liverotto attacked not only the Borgia's but the Holy Mother Church herself; it was her that they defended, not me, I do not fool myself on that," he said tiredly.

"Maybe so, but the victory is still yours, my son, and I will forever thank God for that. Why don't you go and lie down—you look a positive fright, my love—did you get any sleep last night?"

"I...did not." Cesare gave his mother a strange look that she attributed to his fatigue.

"Go and lie down on my bed, this very moment—I insist. When you wake you will be refreshed, change your clothes and we'll meet your bear of a father for dinner. To your rest, my love, now..." Vannozza commanded him lovingly. Cesare placed a sweet kiss upon her cheek and did as he was told.


	16. The Road To Nepi

While Cesare dreamt the dreams of a troubled man in his mother's bed, Lucrezia had long passed the gates of Rome; she sat in her carriage, despondent and quiet while Giovanni, thankfully, slept peacefully in her arms. Across from her, Miracella looked upon her mistress with her own heavy heart, sad for them both that they were leaving the familiar comforts of their true home for God only knew what unknown and sorry substitute they were headed toward.

Pietra, Lucrezia's maid, who had replaced her late maid, Pentesilea, held no such dread at the advent of leaving Rome; ever since the French army had come and gone Roman whores and their patrons were rife with the dreaded French Disease. Although a cardinal or two had made advances upon her in the past Pietra had always politely turned them down, which actually was a nicer way of saying that she had only barely escaped their lustful clutches and groping hands. The majority of them were not near as handsome as Cesare Borgia, or his amorous father, Pope Alexander; and even though neither man had ever so much as glanced her way she would have run screaming away from them, as well, no matter how alluring they were. As far as she was concerned most of the cardinals were all bigger whores than the whores they patronized, and tended to their carnal pleasures with more religious fervor than they ever employed within the walls of the Basilica.

There were two whom she did allow herself to fantasize about, however; there was the blond wonder boy—Alessandro Farnese—who didn't do whores at all. He was like any bookkeeper, however—as boring as he was handsome and equally content with his ledger books as he was with his dutiful mistress, Lady Silvia Ruffini. Yet Pietra found that to be the most endearing thing about him; if ever she could gain such a man's attention who was not choking under the collar of a cleric's robes she would happily marry him, if asked, before a cock could complete his first crow at the morning sun.

The other was Cardinal Ascanio Sforza. That one sent a little shiver of lust through Pietra that made her lady parts go all tingly and wet at just the thought of his mouth and that delicious little knowing smirk of his. He had a way of talking to everyone as if they were maggots under his boot-heel, yet with that ever amused smirk on his face that always made Pietra wish that she was in on the joke. However, Cardinal Sforza didn't do whores, either; he was more than content to fuck a fine assortment of his own beautiful cousins, who came from far and near to entertain and be entertained by him.

Pietra looked at the two forlorn women in the carriage and felt nothing for their homesickness; she managed a demure and compassionate smile at them both then took to staring silently out of the small carriage window as she lost herself happily in her own impossible fantasies and hoped that there was at least one good-looking man or two of means in Nepi that would help bring some of her more doable fantasies to life.

Some four hours later they were traveling up Via Cassia and making the turn to Via Amerina when the carriage suddenly stopped. Ersilio, the coachman, knocked on the door.

"Yes?" Lucrezia opened the door and popped her head out.

"Sorry to stop so suddenly, my Lady, just wanted to apologize for the condition of these roads and let you know that we should be another hour, or just over, getting up the cliff there. Would my Lady desire a walkabout to stretch her legs before we continue or tend to any delicate needs?"

"I think I would like to stretch my legs a bit—thank you, Ersilio."

Ersilio held the door for her as she exited and then received Giovanni from Miracella.

"Miracella...Pietra...wouldn't you like to stretch your legs, ladies?"

"No, thank you, my Lady..." Miracella answered her absently.

"Well, I would..." said Pietra as she hopped out with a hand from Ersilio and gave him a knowing smile as she cut her eyes at him; he ignored her and went to tend to his horses. "I'm glad we're not making this journey at night," she said then as she looked around at the ominous oak forests that surrounded the cliffs they would soon be disappearing into.

"Hence our early departure..." Lucrezia said with a tired sigh as they both looked up the cliff where they could see the castle on the hilltop and its impressive towers off in the distance "Ersilio?"

"Yes, my Lady?" he asked as he walked back around to her.

"What is that lake there?" she pointed to the other side of the road, where the lowlands met the shore.

"Lake Trasimeno, my Lady."

"I'm glad it is winter—Our Holy Father has seen fit to send me to a mosquito haven—malaria must run rampant here in summer..." she said disgustedly as she looked out across, what she deemed as, the beautiful killer lake. "The castle should have been further away, I think."

"What say you, my Lady? Further away? I hazard to ask, where?" Pietra asked her with an intrigued grin.

"Rome would have been nice," Lucrezia answered, her voice sounding as far away as her gaze beyond the lake. Pietra let out a hearty laugh. "Come now, my Lady—we will be way up there..." she took Lucrezia by the shoulders and turned her away from the lake to face the hillside again, "the mosquitoes might as well be down here sucking on olive skins, for I have a remedy, my Lady."

"Really? What?"

"I have a cousin in Spain who got her hands on a plant her village healer pilfered straight off the docks from a cargo ship of Colombo himself...when he came back from his second trip to the New World. "

"Go on..." Lucrezia prompted her, more than intrigued.

"It's a type of grass, my Lady...produces a lovely scent that smells of lemons...and you can extract an oil from it and add it to candle wax—wards mosquitoes clear away."

"Grass, you say?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"And do you possess any of this miraculous herb?"

"I do, my Lady, and my cousin taught me how to make the candles, as well."

"Then you must show me, Pietra—I would love to have the castle filled up with them," Lucrezia said with a faint smile.

"Of course, my Lady," Pietra beamed at her, happy that she was able to elicit even that tiny smile from her lady, the first she'd seen since the poor girl had returned to Rome.

Ersilio approached them then. "My Lady, we should resume now—the Governor awaits, after all and we want to be at the castle before the sun begins to set..." he suggested delicately.

Lucrezia looked around at her retinue: three hundred cavaliers ahead of her, three hundred behind, mounted and waiting to proceed; seven more carriages between them, carrying her other ladies, household staff, and stable attendants then gave a little sigh. "Yes, onward we must go..."

Once they were settled in the carriage Lucrezia fell silent again. Pietra had always been fearful of the girl's father and brothers, and the lady Vannozza, who was one to be careful around, as well, but she had always found Lucrezia to be a fair and compassionate employer. Certainly there had been rumours: that she had a terrible mean streak and once tried to kill her brother Juan with a chandelier—but not many would have faulted her had she succeeded—he was a rake and a rapist and a man of foul disposition, with a dark heart and soul; then there were the ones that she had worked witchcraft when she dispelled the poison from her father's body and saved his very life; and that she was the one who tried to poison King Frederigo, then the Prince of Naples, and Djem, the handsome blackamoor. And then there were the very worst rumours, regarding her and her brother, Cesare.

Pietra believed none of them and was often ribbed viciously when she defended her lady's name to some of the other servants. But she had never witnessed any untoward behavior between the two siblings with her own eyes and until she did she would hold off on that particular charge. She'd had a brother herself that she had been very close to and knew, very well, how it felt to have people misinterpret the relationship, for his lady friends had always been jealous of their closeness and often made snide remarks directly to Pietra's face. They were so very wrong and out of place; Pietra had lost her temper once and slapped the face of one of his paramours, very deservedly, for uttering such filth at her. But it was of no matter anymore, for her beloved brother had been killed trying to defend her and their family against the monstrous French soldiers when they invaded Rome.

She tried to put the thought of her own brother and his sad fate out of her head and looked at her lady, now seated across from her, again looking woeful and resigned as she gazed out through the carriage window. Pietra often wondered, as a matter of fact, how it was that the girl had the same Borgia blood running through her veins yet managed to be as sweet and caring as she was. And now she was widowed and banished from Rome, for what possible reason Pietra had no idea, though there was plenty of conjecture emanating from the carriages behind them. Pietra hoped to catch her lady's eyes and give her a little reassuring smile, but Lucrezia was lost in her own thoughts and heartbreak and continued to stare out at the dense oak forest as they carriage bumped along on the rough, horrible road and up the stream-laden cliffs to lonely Nepi.

When they finally arrived through the castle gates over an hour later, the governor and the whole village was there to greet Lucrezia with the keys to the village. The courtyard was awash in colors of gold, red and blue flags, but the dress of the lords, ladies and locals was dark and somber in the manner of mourning for their new governor's departed Prince. And of course there were the Priors, one young priest in particular who smiled at her warmly as he accompanied the governor when they approached her carriage to help her out of it.

"Your Highness...Giancarlo di Tosoni, at your service," her paternal host bowed at her.

"None of that, dear Don di Tosoni, for I am a princess no longer," she said when she arose from her curtsey at him. The man was instantly won over by her humbleness.

"On behalf of all those present here this evening, please accept our sincere condolences on the loss of your dear Prince Alfonso, my Lady." He bowed at her again.

"Thank you so much, one and all..." she said as she looked out to the crowd.

"Allow me to introduce Cardinal Pietro Bembo..."

The young cardinal found it hard to dispel the smile from his handsome face but managed it long enough to proceed with the formality of giving his sincere but brief sympathy before his face erupted in that warm and intriguing smile again.

"Ah, Cardinal Bembo—I know a plant when I see one," Lucrezia said through her discerning gaze upon him.

"My Lady is as clever as she is beautiful," he bowed at her again.

"Not as clever as Our Holy Father is often times predictable, Cardinal Bembo."

He gave her a little nod of mirthful recognition at being so easily found out. "Our Holy Father loves his daughter and has simply dispatched me to see to your comfort and to assist you in your duties should you have the need, my Lady."

"Thank you, Cardinal Bembo, you are appreciated. But you must know that I am a connoisseur of smiles and if we are to get along without scandal you must stop inflicting the particular one at me that is upon your face right now, " Lucrezia warned him seriously.

Bembo was unable to oblige her.

"My Lady," Don di Tosoni interrupted them delicately, "it is our custom to welcome a dignitary such as yourself, and also as our new governor, by honoring you with a carnival. We hope that you will not take offense at our desire and allow us to delay the proceeding until next Friday and through the second week of your tenancy here and then we shall intrude not again upon your period of mourning."

"Thank you, Don di Tosoni, I find your custom and your warm regard most pleasing—I am truly honored."

The crowd cheered at her response.

"May I have a word?" she asked him them.

"Of course, my Lady..." Don di Tosoni presented her properly to the crowd.

"Thank you again, one and all, for your warm welcome. I do not have any great words to say except that I honor the position you have bestowed upon me with the greatest humility; it is my endeavor to get to know you, one and all, as my extended and appreciated family, and serve you with all of the love and fairness I find directed at me now—I am...overcome with my desire for devotion to you all and aspire to hold governorship that is worthy of my fine predecessor," she looked to Don di Tosoni and took his hand, "and of you all. Thank for your kind indulgence and your most appreciated welcome to this fine keep and your beautiful comune."

Don di Tosoni then handed her the keys to the village which Lucrezia accepted graciously; she kissed them even as she blew the kiss to the assembled villagers and gave a humble curtsey, to which the crowd cheered wildly. Don di Tosoni had a time trying to quiet them but finally managed it.

"And now we shall have the Benediction and then release our Lady to her rest," he announced as he ushered Cardinal Bembo forward to give it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at Castel Sant'Angelo, in Vannozza dei Cattanei's apartment, her oldest son lay in her bed, still in a deep and fitful sleep even as the sun was setting. She had never seen him so exhausted—or affected—and his obvious state of uneasiness was more alarming than the fears he had given voice to before he left her for the siege at Forli.

Cesare awoke with a start as he was roused by his mother, searching desperately under the pillow for a blade that was not there.

"Cesare? My love..."

His vision cleared slowly through groggy eyes and for a moment he was disoriented enough to not know what day it was; he looked away from his mother to the window and could not tell if the golden glow of the horizon was that of sunrise or sunset. He looked back at Vannozza. "Mother?"

"Yes, my love?" Her smile was full of concern.

"What..."

"You have been asleep since noon today, my love...we are about to be late for dinner with your father."

Then it all came rushing back to him: his sister was gone. He frowned his displeasure at his mother but said nothing more.

"Cesare, what on God's earth is it, my son? My heart breaks for you yet I know not why..."

Cesare's features softened a bit as he took his mother's cheek into his hand and kissed it. "Bad dreams, mother, that is all." He sat up then and buried his face in his own hands and tried to wipe his grogginess away, then took a deep breath before he released himself. "Dinner, hmm?" he addressed her absently.

"Yes, my love."

"Then I must go refresh myself and change..." he got out of the bed and headed for the door.

"Cesare..." his mother called to him worriedly. He stopped and turned to face her again. "I love you." He walked back to her and gave her another kiss upon her cheek and a strong hug full of his own love and appreciation.

"I love you, mother; do not be stressed—I'm just tired. I shall take to my bed directly after dinner and catch up my sleep, that is all..."

Vannozza was not reassured but stilled her tongue; desiring not to ruin her son's disposition further she simply smiled and nodded at him and then he left her.

Just over an hour later the three of them were seated in Rodrigo's dining room. There was tension in the air that was palpable and it was coming directly from Vannozza's two men, but mainly Cesare, who sat reclined in his seat in obstinate repose, glaring at his obtuse father, who was busy savoring his first sip of wine.

"Ah! That is indeed divine—We were absolutely parched...it has been a day," Rodrigo sighed heavily through closed eyes after his second long sip.

"So..." Vannozza began as the first course of their meal was set before them, "I see that La Bella dispensed with the artist and has decided upon a nobleman..."

"Yes, yes..." Rodrigo smiled agreeably as he dug into his poached pears.

"And they are to be married at the end of this month coming..."

"Umm," Rodrigo cleared his palate with another sip of wine, "yes, yes indeed. What of it, my love? Do you plan to be in attendance?" he joked. Vannozza endured his insensitivity with a coy smile.

"I would, I think, if our dear Lucrezia was invited back to Rome to attend, as well..." she tried him. Cesare sat up in his seat properly then and cast at steady gaze at his father in anticipation of his reply.

Rodrigo became aware of them both fully, for the first time since he'd sat down at the table and gave them each his scornful frown. "What is this?" he demanded, immediately angered. "She is _not_ invited and you well know why," he fumed at Vannozza through a low hiss of his voice.

Cesare banged a fist upon the table, rattling everything upon it thunderously. "And you do so enjoy banning people from weddings, do you not, Holy Father..." he leveled at him.

"You are both...ARGH! Will you actually sit here and ruin Our dinner?" Rodrigo banged his own fist upon the table.

"Will you actually sit here and ruin a life?" Cesare shot back at him venomously.

Rodrigo shot up from the table in an angry huff and leaned threateningly across the table at his son. "We love you, Cesare, but you will be still and take care; your sister is not banished from Rome and she will return one day—when the smoke has cleared and her good name has been restored!"

"You mean when you've successfully enjoined her to another alliance that will survive the drying of the ink..." Vannozza said quietly and coolly from her seat, not looking at either one of them as she played at the pears upon her own twice-rattled plate and awaiting its third assault.

"You know..." Rodrigo narrowed his eyes at his son and lowered his voice, trying desperately to calm himself, "We know that look upon your face, do We not, Vannozza?" he said to her while never breaking his gaze into Cesare's eyes. Vannozza looked up at them both then in great alarm. "Your wedding night was one of epic proportions, We have heard...We think you should make haste and return to your wife in France, for an...encore...shall We say? Which is obviously most overdue...either that or avail yourself of a fine Roman whore."

Vannozza's mouth dropped open at Rodrigo's insult upon their son. "Rodrigo! That is _enough_..." she said in complete outrage.

"No, that is not enough, for _you_ will restrict your concerns about your sister to your aid in helping Us find a suitable husband for her _and_ the most lucrative for Ourselves and stay out of Our other affairs—and hers. Are We understood?"

Cesare only continued to glower at his father.

"ARE WE UNDERSTOOD!"

Cesare kicked his chair away from the table, still shooting daggers at his father with his eyes. "Yes," he managed to get out.

"YES, WHAT?"

"Yes. Holy. Father." He stormed out of the dining room.

"Rodrigo..." Rodrigo leveled a wild, raging gaze upon her that startled and frightened Vannozza, but she held her steady composure.

" _You_...be gone from me, Vannozza!"

Vannozza dabbed daintily at her mouth with a napkin and then rose quietly and slowly from her chair. The scathing look in her eyes directed his way had the desired effect upon him.

"Oh, my love," he whispered anguishedly at her as he walked around the table and made to reach for her; she allowed his embrace but was immobile as a stone fortress. "Why do you both perturb me both so in this matter? A finer soldier there has never been, or diplomat; my ally in all things—my son shall be a prince among men, am I to have my way; but he does effectively try my patience where his sister is concerned—I will not _have it_ , Vannozza, and you must all trust that what I am doing now is for the greater good—not just my own!" His rage was quiet and personal, for he wanted no other ears to hear it.

"He loves her, Rodrigo, as do I..."

"And you think that I do not?"

"Of course you do; and I see your point, but you might endeavor to make it, sometimes, in a manner more...compassionate, shall we say? He did not deserve that cruelty, and you know it."

"What shall I do then? Tell me that..." he harrumphed.

"First, you might find it advantageous to apologize. Secondly, you might remember how much he has always loved and desired to please you, even as he endeavored to be his own man; remember all of the things he's done for you and continues to do for you and how little he truly asks of you in return; thirdly, remember what he asks for, when he does—and for whom...very rarely and truly for himself, Rodrigo. Remember those things and rethink your decision. Whatever your final answer is we will both respect—but approach it from a truly different perspective, yes? Remember, my love, season that decision with your apology first—you may be amazed at what it garners for you in the end and for all of us."

"Oh, Vannozza," he took her hand and kissed it longingly, "what would I do without you?" he cooed at her.

"You would be fucked." She withdrew her hand from him abruptly and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your were there, Miracella—what did you see?" asked Ersilio as they sat around the huge kitchen dining table.

After the benediction the villagers dispersed back to their own homes, all of them abuzz about the Borgia daughter who was nothing like the rumours that preceded her implied. Not all were as completely won over as Don di Tosoni, but even those that were not had to admit that the girl, though inexperienced, was clearly likeable.

Only fifty cavaliers remained at the castle; having dutifully and safely escorted their charges, the rest turned around and headed back for Rome the same night.

Lucrezia had taken a tour of the castle with her staff to assess what she needed, which would be more beds and linens for the staff, and clothes for Giovanni; the kitchen was well appointed with cooking utensils, even a nice selection of breads, cheeses and wine, but a trip to market would be in order the next day. The cavaliers had a whole tower to themselves with quarters and a kitchen; the captain had assured her that they had their own system clearly in place regarding cooking duties and that her staff was not responsible for their needs in that regard. They, too, had need of more supplies and her list was growing ever larger as she tallied up what was needed and the funds she would have to secure from her father in order to fulfill them. When it was all finally done she dismissed Miracella and the rest to their own devices; she spent the rest of her evening alone with Giovanni and took to her own bed as soon as he fell asleep.

Miracella and the rest of the staff, some twenty-five other men and women, had worked out their own sleeping arrangements and explored the ins and outs of the castle for themselves; a group of them, which included all of the stable boys, the cook and several coachmen, left the castle to go and explore the village taverns with a stern warning from Ersilio to mind their manners and their drink. He was looking at Miracella then, as were the nine others around the table, in rapt attention, waiting for her answer.

"I saw nothing..." she said uneasily.

"I heard His Excellence killed the boy..." said one maid, named Donatella.

"I heard that his Captain Corella did it..." said another, Lavinia, conspiratorially.

"I heard that the Prince's own uncle planted an assassin in Rome..." the shy little cook's apprentice, Tiberio, whispered at them.

"Come, Miracella, you must have seen something! What was Cesare's disposition when you went to the Lady?" asked Ersilio.

"Angry...as always; I've never had an audience with him where he was not scowling at me," Miracella shivered as she thought of the look on his face as he waited for her to leave that night in Lucrezia's room; if looks could kill she would surely have been a dead woman already, but she did not voice that opinion out loud to them.

"I heard that she had a terrible quarrel with His Holiness and he banished her here as a punishment..." another coachman announced loudly after he'd taken a long slug of his ale.

"You might want to quiet down there, Tomas, you don't want the Lady to hear you, eh?" Ersilio told him gruffly.

"Ah, she's way away in her lonely little bed..." he said as he looked wistfully up to the ceiling, "and we're all the way down here—suck my nutsack..." Tomas grabbed his crotch and gave it a vicious yet enthusiastic tug and let out a vile drunken belch at Ersilio. Donatella reached over and gave him a hearty slap to the head, with a frown on her pretty face.

"Ouch, wench!"

"Keep it up and see if you don't find yourself tumbling headfirst down one of those lovely ravines, you prick," Ersilio threatened.

"Both of you mind yourselves..." said Maria sternly, the oldest female maid in the group who'd managed to hold them all in a maternal sway, "or I shall tell the Lady to replace the both of you."

Ersilio gave a grunt of disgust at Tomas; Tomas threatened to say something more but looked at Maria and knew that her threat was not an empty one. "Off to bed for me, then..." he grumbled as he made to rise and gave a wink at Donatella.

"You keep your arse in that chair until your roommate comes back from the village—he can scoop you up from the floor, which is where you'll be by the time he gets back," Maria ordered him; she didn't want him drunk and wandering about alone, for that would have been sure trouble. Tomas flipped his middle finger at her but stayed firmly rooted in his seat. The others around the table laughed at him and continued their gossip.

"Well, I heard he's planning another betrothal—and that poor boy is not even cold in his grave, yet..." Pietra said sorrowfully.

"I heard that there was an inquest—at the behest of the House of Aragon and that they wanted to level the charge of murder against His Excellence, but had not enough evidence..."

"What? No! And from whom did you hear that, Ersilio?" Maria asked him.

"The Prince's valet...Rustighello..."

"What?" asked the identical twin coachemen, Cristoforo and Vicenzo in unison.

"You mean that delicious little blond Neapolitan delight?" Donatella asked lustily.

"You need to throw a bucket on that," warned Tomas drunkenly, who happened to be Donatella's lover du jour.

"I saw him, packing his few things for his return to Naples..." Ersilio told them all.

"Well, what did he say?" asked Lavinia, on the edge of her seat.

"He saw me as I looked in to his room; I asked him where he was off to and he said, 'Back to Naples and not a day too soon for my liking.' I asked him what was his distress and he said, 'There is no distress...anymore—the inquest is over and I'm going home to the murderers I know.'"

They all broke out in scandalized laughter, except for two. Miracella, who was not surprised to know that he had gone as much as she was hurt that he had not sought her out to say farewell, for they had grown close in their short time together and had been intimate with each other; and Pietra, who didn't find the remark funny at all. The two women looked at each in silent solidarity as they endured the rest of the evening until time to go to bed.


	17. Of Want And Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Six Fragments for Atthis" by Sappho.

It was late Sunday night; Vannozza had indulged in a comforting bath and was waiting for Rodrigo to conclude his day and join her in his bedchamber. Although her bath had indeed relaxed her weary bones a bit, she found that she was restless with worry: over Cesare, who had taken his banners with only minimal pomp and circumstance and then departed immediately thereafter for Forli; and over Lucrezia, alone in Nepi with only the barest retinue consisting mostly of a few servants and a small contingent of cavaliers. To make herself feel closer to her daughter she had been sitting up in Rodrigo's bed reading the poems of Sappho and had just finished her daughter's favorite, _"Six Fragments for Atthis"_ , that she had read to her darling girl so often at bedtime that Lucrezia had learned it by heart by the time she was four years old. What a little wonder she had been, too, sitting in Vannozza's lap, with the family gathered around, astounding them with her seeming ability to read the words from the book, knowing every line and inflection when actually it was from the memory of her mother's many recitals and explanations of the lovely verses. Vannozza snapped the book shut.

_"...I prayed one word; I want._

_Someone, I tell you, will remember us,_

_Even in another time..."_

Vannozza whispered the end of the poem and Lucrezia's very favorite lines softly to herself and then tears came to her eyes; she got out of the bed and went to Rodrigo's desk in the anteroom, sat down and gathered parchment, ink pot, and quill to write her child a letter; she wiped her tears vigorously away lest they drop to the page and smear the ink then took a deep breath to compose herself; before she could even begin the salutation her tears came again and she threw down the quill and buried her face in her hands. As she sobbed into them she determined that she must keep that first missive short and bright; there was much she wanted to tell her daughter, but most of it would have to wait until they saw each other again and could speak in private; and of course she could never reveal what Cesare had told her about Rufio and his initial plans to eliminate her husband, neither on paper nor from her own lips—she had promised her son that it was their most inviolable secret.

The two of them were so close and their devotion to each other had always been a source of comfort to Vannozza; she knew that Cesare had always confided things to his sister that he shared with no others, not even her, and Vannozza understood and respected that—she couldn't know everything about her childrens' lives—no parent was ever supposed to; with her sons she had just always been honored, especially after they reached puberty, to be let into their lives at all. She was glad that her son had someone he trusted that he could confide in and didn't begrudge her daughter one bit that she was that one. But Vannozza feared, just as Cesare had, that the revelation about his truest desire for Alfonso was one that their relationship could very possibly not survive.

Vannozza comported herself and took another deep breath, then finally began to write.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah...my love..." Rodrigo said with a heavy sigh as he came into the room.

It had been quite sometime later before she heard his apartment door open and shut and she was just finishing up her letter.

"At last your day is over," Vannozza smiled up at him and then received his sweet kiss upon her lips.

"Yes...finally. What are you about, my love?"

"A letter to our dear daughter...and tomorrow I shall write one to Gioffre; I had a lonely moment here waiting for you, missing my babies, all grown and so far away from me now."

"Yes, but you have me, my love...and we shall comfort each other, hmm?"

"Yes," she smiled at him. "I am almost done—my signature and the wax and then I shall join you..."

Rodrigo gave her a lusty smile before he took one of her hands and kissed the back of it, then began to undress as he made his way to his bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quite some hours later, the two happily familiar lovers lay in each others arms, spent and satisfied.

"Yes, my love, to be with you is to truly be home," he murmured at her as he hugged her tightly to him.

"And for me, my love. What was it that detained you so long this evening?"

"A special meeting with the consistory—they are aggrieved over the appointment of the six _cardinale nipote_ , it seems," Rodrigo informed her with a devilish little chuckle.

"Well, of course," Vannozza's amused smile warmed him.

"Of course. Their displeasure matters not, it is done. I gave them audience and heard their gripes until my ears bled—look, do you see?" he turned his ear to her in jest.

Vannozza's hearty laughter was then enjoined by his own; soon their laughter subsided and Vannozza sank back into seriousness.

"Oh? What is this, my love?" he cooed at her.

"I must return to my palazzo now, we both know it; the inns are doing brisk business...I have ledgers to balance." Vannozza turned away from him.

"Hmm? What is this? Why do I detect a note of eagerness in your voice?" he asked her suspiciously even as he hugged her tighter and kissed the back of her neck.

"Whatever do you mean, Rodrigo?"

"Does _Theo_ still await you? Is that why you're so anxious to get back to your 'ledgers', hmm?"

"Rodrigo, stop it; Theo went home long ago..." Vannozza smiled her reprimand at him over her shoulder.

"Hmm..." he growled his displeasure at her. "You do realize that when you go I shall be alone, myself, do you not?"

"You and Cesare have a kingdom to secure—work will be your mistress..." Vannozza teased him.

"Oh! You imp! Work can't do this...nor does it feel as sweet..." he murmured as he made to enter her.

"Oh no..." she chided him as she pulled away, "save it for Vittoria..." she giggled at him.

"Ah! You dare to refuse me?" he gave her rump a playful swat.

"Oh! You didn't!"

"I did, my Lady, and I will happily do it again..." he threatened her seductively. "How did you know about her, anyway? Vittoria..."

"Oh please, Rodrigo; her disguise was only fair, just barely passable; but her manner gave her dead away—and those slender, curvaceous hips—her jerkin and breeches only accentuated them more. Besides, I'd seen her before, in the employ of Lucrezia Normanni..."

"Felice della Rovere's mother?" he asked her, totally shocked.

"Yes."

"And what possible business could you have had with her?"

"It was sometime ago, my love, and a small matter of a mistaken invitation to her salon where she was hosting Michelangelo himself to show one of his latest works."

"Well," Rodrigo harrumphed incredulously, "how did _that_ go?"

"She was more than gracious to me but I heard later that she had her lady, the one who sent out the invitations, whipped within an inch of her life. Felice was not yet gone to Savona; Vittoria was one of their maids."

"Well," Rodrigo said, flabbergasted.

"I must have made some impression on Felice, I dare say."

"What do you mean?"

"The girl sought me out, not long after Lucrezia married Alfonso..."

"What? Why? As far as I know we Borgia are as much her enemy as we are that of her abominable father," he groused.

"We are; but the girl was distraught, Rodrigo..."

"All of Rome used to kiss her arse—"

"Once maybe, Rodrigo, but your ascent to the Papal throne caused her to be driven away from her home and the bosom of her loving family at the insistence of Giuliano; her Savonese family holds her in no such regard and neither her own husband."

"What?"

"She had been married off to a Savonese politician of some sort, you see, one who benefits her father's ambitions—you know how it is done..."

"Vannozza..." he grumbled his warning at her.

"I am not leveling a judgment, Rodrigo, calm yourself. The girl's foray into marriage has been loveless and as disagreeable as that of our darling daughter's first marriage, it seems—he is a brute worse than Giovanni Sforza, if that is even possible," she said disgustedly. "The girl secreted herself back to Rome for succor and counsel with her mother only to find that the woman had died."

"Oh, my..." The sad revelation genuinely pained Rodrigo.

"Yes, indeed. She had no one to turn to and she would not see her father..."

"Was there no one in the girl's family that—"

"She had no one to turn to, Rodrigo, save for her cousin that she swore to secrecy regarding her presence in the city, nothing but a child, herself." Vannozza assured him emphatically.

"Humph...consigned herself to the fact that her father is a hateful, miserable little prick, has she? Why did she seek you out?"

"She said her mother told her about me after that faux pas over Michelangelo; she said only that her mother told her that I knew her father during a time when he was kinder..."

"Say no more about that, Vannozza," Rodrigo warned.

"I'm only telling you what she told me. The child was a wreck, Rodrigo, which was so unlike the girl that used to practically own Rome. It was heartbreaking...and reminded me of our dear Lucrezia's hellish experience."

"So what happened?"

"I lent her my more than sympathetic ear and was surprised that she allowed my motherly embrace...I...counseled her...in the ways of self-defense; and then I helped secure her secret passage back to Savona. That poor girl—I often wonder how she is doing."

"If she wants truly to be well she'll poison the fucker or cut off his prick while he sleeps," Rodrigo harrumphed. "Giuliano is a most uncaring father and that's putting it mildly. He didn't need to send her away, I would never have harmed her."

"Well, you and I know that, but his hatred of you clouds his judgment in all things Borgia, it seems."

"Hmm..." Rodrigo contemplated her words with a frown upon his face. "Yes, as does that which he coveted once, even more than the Papal throne..."

"We will not speak of that, remember?" Vannozza pulled his arms tighter about her. "I am where I always wanted to be, my love."

"Must you leave me so soon, then?" he nuzzled into her more, pleading her with his body as well as with his voice.

"Ah, my love, you do make an excellent case," she purred at him over her shoulder, "but I do have a life outside of these Vatican walls, Rodrigo...business to attend to; and thank God, for my worry over the children is never-ending—and for you." She looked back to her pillow and nestled even closer into him. "And while you may receive me with these loving open arms," she raised one of his hands away from her breast and kissed the back of it, "I am ever held under the scornful and reproachful eyes of the consistory. If only..." she trailed off wistfully.

"If only what, my love?"

"Do you still wish that you could be a peasant in a garden with a pitchfork?" she asked him softly, thinking back to a tender moment they'd shared that seemed as if it had happened a lifetime ago.

Rodrigo took her chin into his hand and tilted it up so that her gaze would meet his. "If it would erase that frown upon your brow, my love; if it would ensure that our family would know safety and peace—yes, that would still be my wish..." he twisted her neck around gently so that her lips could meet his tender kiss. "But I have another, my love," he whispered at her when his lips released hers, "more than fulfillable and ready to be granted upon you..."

"Again?" she asked him dreamily as she received him in ecstatic and exquisite surrender.

"And again...and again...and again..." he growled as his body gave hers his further assurance.


	18. To Rights

_My Dearest, Darling Lucrezia,_

_You have been gone only a day and my heart aches as if I have not seen you in years. I shall not dwell on that, for it is not my intent for this letter to cause you tears, my love._

_There is so much to say that, unfortunately, must wait to be said when we can again speak in person. You must have my assurance that Our Holy Father had good reason to gift your new home to you, and I thank goodness that it was ready for your arrival. I understand that once one makes the journey up through the treacherous ravines the village itself is a little gem. I do hope that you will find some beauteous feature that you may enjoy enough to take your comfort in, my darling._

_How is my precious little Giovanni? I do miss his smiling, happy face, but take comfort in the fact that you are both together and unperturbed. I appealed to His Holiness to reconsider your attendance at La Bella's wedding, but your safety and regard is ever the issue, my love, do not doubt Him on that matter. I will not be attending, but I'm sure La Bella will send a record of her happy day to share with you._

_Your dear brother took his banners early today without great ado at all and rode straight to Forli immediately thereafter. Of course, it was in great deference to your Dear Alfonso that he made no celebration, but even had your brother not so honored our late Prince, I believe he would have gone about it the same way. You are both such minimalists, my love; with Cesare everything is ever so business-like; dispatched methodically and with little fuss before he tears away at breakneck speed on to the next campaign. I understand that time is of the essence in all things, but your brother is a marvel. He will be back in a few weeks to escort the French ambassador from Saint Spirito into Rome for negotiations with the Holy Father._

_And you! Why on God's earth did allow yourself such an almost non-existent retinue, my love? It is not a criticism, dearest, just truly a question. Certainly funding was not the issue; whatever your reason I hope you will impart it to me, sooner rather than later._

_As for me, my love, I return to my own palace in the morning and back to the business of managing my business. There's not much else to say about that other than I look forward to the company of my ledger books and all of the small mundane tasks that will take up my days seeing to the inn and my staff while I am yet missing you and your brothers. I shall write to your brother in Squillace next. I have heard of late that our little Gioffre has had himself quite a growth spurt and has very much come into his own; I have also heard that he has his hands full with his Sancia, but not enough to his liking—and that she remains ever spirited. The difference now, it seems, is that he has the greater ability to see to his liking elsewhere, and has. Bravo to him, I say, between you and I; we know how awfully she betrayed him and with whom—I fear that there is simply no coming back from that. I shall be greatly relieved to hear from him and will share any news of him to you in my next letter._

_At the very least I shall look forward to seeing you all here in Rome for Christmas, save for whatever political exploits your brother Cesare may be involved in that would prevent his coming. Until that joyous day, my love, I hope that you and Giovanni are well and that you will write to me soon._

_Ever and all of my love,_

_Mama_

_P.S. I have enclosed Burchart's transcript of the inquest, which is of course, public record. He was kind enough to rush a copy for me so that I would be able to send it with this letter. When I see you again I will give you your dear brother's account, which you can imagine, is not one I would prefer to put to parchment._

_His Holiness asks that I remember His love to you and sends a kiss to you and little Giovanni._

_Ever your loving Mother,_

_Giovanna de Candia, Contessa dei Cattanei_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a bright sunny morning and the end of Lucrezia's first week in Nepi. The carnival in her honor was to begin at sundown and the whole town was abuzz with the excitement carnival always elicited in adults and children alike. She was in the main garden watching Giovanni at play with his teething ring on a pallet under a canopy, and going over some matters of import with Don di Tosoni and the ever-attentive Cardinal Bembo, when Pietra came out and announced a messenger to her.

"My Lady—a message has arrived for you..."

A young man came forward then, and produced a large parchment from his pouch with a wax seal that she instantly recognized as her mother's.

"My Lady—from your mother, the Contessa," the young man bowed at her as he held it out to her.

"Thank you," she smiled warmly at the lad. "Pietra..."

"Yes, my Lady?" Pietra rushed forward to her.

"Take this young man to the kitchen and give him refreshment, then prepare his accommodation, for I shall send my response back with him soon."

"Yes, my Lady." Pietra took the boy away as she was told.

"Ah, news from home—always heartwarming, I'm sure," said the cardinal as he approached her, ever smiling.

"Yes, I'm sure," Lucrezia responded, trying to quell her excitement over the missive that was burning a hole into her palm as she tried to keep her mind on her business with Don di Tosoni and off of the cardinal's smile, which so disquieted her.

"My Lady, we can finish this discussion later, if you wish..." di Tosoni began graciously.

"No; thank you for your kind consideration, but let us finish, for I seek to address this dispute with the two families today and have the air cleared; it is my wish that they might be free to enjoy their peace and the spirit of the festivities I am to be humbly honored by this evening."

As ever Don di Tosoni was taken over by her humbleness and then, her evident dedication to service even before self. He continued his counsel over the dispute between two families of Spoleto and Nepi, over land left to them by a deceased uncle. After some time, when all was clear to her they prepared to go to the town hall and take their meeting. She went to her son and took him up in her arms.

"Alright, my love, mama must go now...be a good little boy," she kissed his plump cheek and set him back down. "Do not be out much longer with him Miracella, for he should have his nap soon."

"Yes, my Lady," Miracella curtsied at her.

Lucrezia kept her letter in her possession and during her first act as governor and found that it gave her great comfort, and helped to dispel the nervousness that had been gnawing at her insides over the anxiety of handling her first official mediation successfully. Finally it was done and the two families were brought to happy disposition; Lucrezia had met her goal to see them to their peace and word spread quickly through town of her fair and capable administration. When she arrived back at the castle there was Giovanni to see to and a meeting with her maids, who were preparing sweet treats to supply for one of the concessions at the carnival; when she finally had a private moment alone there were only two hours left to her before sundown. Lucrezia dispatched Giovanni to Miracella and then stole away to her room and locked the door; she settled herself upon her bed and opened the first oversized parchment which contained two smaller sealed ones. She opened her mother's letter and read it voraciously.

So warming to heart it was to read her dear mother's loving words, Lucrezia had read the letter three times. She had always found her comfort in beautiful words written upon the page: such as the poetry of Ovid and Sappho; and the epic writers, Homer being her favorite, but Lucrezia found that there was no greater treasure than those words written to your very self from someone who loved you.

Her mother's words were as a conversation, flowing and familiar and soothing—as if she was in the very room with her. When she read the paragraph concerning Gioffre she could almost feel her mother leaning conspiratorially into her, hushed of voice and smiling that genteel but wicked little smirk of hers at her. She hugged the letter to her bosom and closed her eyes and imagined the soft caress of her mother's hand against her cheek and tried to keep her tears at bay. Presently, she came back to herself and folded the letter delicately up and gave it a kiss before she finally delved into Burchart's transcript of the inquest.

When she was done it became all so clear to her, her father's intent and the truest reason for her hasty dispatch. It was much to take in and she wanted to read it again, but she needed to ready herself and Giovanni for the carnival. She took the missives to her cassone and locked them up with the key hanging from the gold chain about her neck, vowing to visit them when the night was over and she had her privacy again.

As she gathered a fresh gown and went to the door to unlock it for Pietra, waiting outside to help her dress, she stopped in her tracks and wondered after Cesare; she wondered what he was doing at that exact moment; she hoped that he was well and that his day had been as successful as her own and even more so; she wished that he could not only hear her thoughts, but feel them as well, as much as she wished that she was able to do the same; she hoped that her love for him was felt and not forgotten yet to the tasks at hand that would soon have to eclipse it in order to move forward in his headier and more important endeavors; she knew that it was a necessary thing, for him as well as herself, but not at that moment, not just yet.

She went back to her cassone and unlocked it, then removed a satin kerchief and unfolded it delicately to reveal the blade that Cesare had used to kill Giovanni, as he had promised he would do to any man that would harm her; how profusely he had apologized for not delivering the man's heart to her.

"I know not if the beast did not have one or if it was just that I failed so miserably at anatomy in school..." he had joked her later, to which Lucrezia assured him the bloody blade was ever and more than acceptable as testimony to his love for her and evidence of his promise to her.

She wrapped the blade back up then and kissed the cool satin. "I love you, my Cesare..." she whispered softly, "please be well." She locked the blade away again and rose to commit herself to the rest of her evening.

When the townspeople saw her melancholy under her faint but genuine smile later that evening, they attributed it to the sadness she still evidently carried over the very recent loss of her husband, and their hearts went out to her even more. But the husband she mourned, her truest husband, was alive, and hopefully, well, and seeing to his own administration of the good people of Forli.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Countess..." came his deep, gruff, simple greeting as he entered her apartment.

Caterina had been sitting upon her bed reading a letter from her legal counsel when she heard the locks begin to turn and tumble; she thrust her letter under her pillow and rose from the bed.

"So, the Borgia Pope graces me with a meeting, at last," she sneered at him. "Come any closer to me and you shall regret it," she threatened. As the locks tumbled behind him she assumed a defensive stance.

Rodrigo raised a surprised eyebrow and then let out a scornful chuckle. "You are a thing of beauty, madam, but not even if you were the last woman on earth would We touch you in such a manner as you comically suppose." His voice was full of scathing indignation and loathing.

"Rape is not a matter of desire, Borgia, but a matter of power and awful rage..." she hissed at him.

"Ha! And you should know, should you not? Coming from such a fine family of rapists, yourself—your cousin Giovanni comes immediately to mind."

"Liar! How dare you!"

"It is not a lie, madam, your cousin was the most heinous beast in his treatment of Our daughter!" he yelled as he advanced upon her. "And further..." his voice dropped in register to a cold, dangerous growl, "though We may be a man guilty of many sins, We have _never_..." he was directly upon her and took the frightened and transfixed woman's wrists into his grasp, "taken a woman..." he punctuated his adamance with a violent shake of her body, "against her will. And We would not endeavor to lower Ourself to such inglorious, criminal and abominable behavior now, or ever..." Rodrigo thrust Caterina away from him and unceremoniously threw her upon her bed as he walked away from her in disgust. He paced the floor in a rage, unable to look upon her or speak another word.

Caterina collected herself and took hold of a bedpost for support as she watched him with venomous eyes, but with less fear than before; she had heard the rumors and gossip about her cousin over the years to know that Borgia was not lying to her but it had always been a hard fact to accept about him; they had been so close and he had never shown her anything but love; such were the awful dualities of many men, and one she was more than surprised to find the man before her not guilty of in that particular regard. She slowly regained her composure and brought her breathing to a manageable level.

"And your bastard son certainly brought it all to rights, did he not? With your sanction, I'm sure. And now here we are, at war. Could this not have been handled some other way?"

Rodrigo whipped around angrily to face her. "To rights? Death was too good for your cousin, madam."

"Maybe. I am sure the same will be said of you, Borgia, when you are dead and your corpse lies still warm on its slab and all the years after as it rots; even after it turns to dust."

"And you certainly tried your hand at shaping that history, did you not?" he accused her.

"I did not," she replied calmly.

"Ah, hmm..." he chuckled incredulously to himself, "who is the liar now?"

"You have no proof. This so-called trial that awaits me is a farce and a travesty. All of this trumped-up madness to further your ambitions and those of your bastard children," she quietly raged at him.

"I am so _sick_ of that word," he moaned his disgust at her; "Rome is full of bastards; and full of parents who love them. You are a bastard, Countess, or have you forgotten?"

"I am a bastard descended from Nobility," she began haughtily.

"You...are a bastard in jail" he grumbled at her, "deposed of your lands that are being ministered to by one your people have embraced happily. Cesare is a success at Forli..."

"That may be, but where I failed, my brother Gian in Pesaro, will not."

"You should not to be too confidant of that, Countess. You could end this all now—sign the papers releasing your lands and go back to your family; reclaim the son Lorenzo de Medici tries so cruelly to wrest from you and go on with your life," he implored her.

The mention of her hardship over her son caused and involuntary gasp of surprise and heartbreak; she recovered herself quickly and stood straighter before him. "I refuse."

Rodrigo gave a sad shake of his head at her. "Your strength is more than admirable, Countess, but your stubborn defiance is so misplaced," he leveled at her in honest amazement.

"I maintain that this trial is a farce; you have no proof of any involvement by me in the attempts on your life—none. I will triumph in all of my trials in the end, so do as you will."

"As you like then, Countess. Guards!" He shouted out for his release and left her in a huff.


	19. Succor

_Dearest and Most Beloved Mother,_

_Thank you for your swift and loving thoughts of me and our precious Giovanni! I cannot begin to tell you the heights to which my heart soared at receiving your remembrance and soothing assurances, which arrived as if on the wings of a dove; to know that the messenger came bearing word from you was nothing compared to my joy at seeing your wax seal upon the parchment as he released it from his pouch; the love that emanated from it enveloped me immediately, as if you had become flesh and taken me into your very arms. I do miss you so._

_How are you? Has work brought you the solace that you intended? Has Gioffre answered your letter to him yet? I hope that your days are happy and full and that you ever know that I am with you in spirit._

_I was much involved in my day and taken up with the task of my pending and first mediation between two families and their contest over a will. You must surely imagine my great agitation at wanting to steal away immediately from one and all to be left alone with your words even as duty and propriety dictated that I do otherwise; and also the great effort it took for me to contain my truest desires in the bargain. As a compromise I held your letter close to me and did not relinquish it, not even during my administration, for it brought me strength and the confidence to persevere. I will report that, because of the wise and appreciated counsel of the former governor, Don di Tosoni, and the promise of your loving words, yet awaiting me, I released two satisfied families to their peace. So dear mother, my second thanks to you._

_It was a busy day, indeed, as the townspeople were, and are still, holding a week-long carnival in my honor that began at sundown that same evening and will end Saturday next. It is their custom and they were gracious enough to ask if I would entertain the notion at all, in light of this being my period of mourning. I found that I could not deny their respectful and heartfelt hospitality. I presented my maids to concession bearing marzipan; baba; Maria's exquisite scorze di arance candite; and Miracella's panforte._

_It was indeed a beautiful time but my melancholy was true and tangible, dear mother, and I made an appearance only, not even staying long enough to see the first fireworks lit. I had managed a moment alone, only hours before the festivities, to have my first read of your letter and Burchart's report...it was midnight that night before I could visit them again. And now here it is three days later that I am able to sit at my peace and finally write back to you. I have no appointments today and have my freedom—I worked through four mediations yesterday, each and every one a land dispute and most time-consuming, and the only way that I could manage respite from my duties to enjoy this moment._

_I can imagine Cesare's account of the inquest very clearly—just how much did his nostrils flare and blow flame? Enough to torch only the Basilica or all of Rome? I am sure that, no matter his predilection, you alone are responsible for preventing either disaster. Thank you, again, for sending Burchart's transcript to me—I understand very clearly now that which I did not upon my departure from Rome. And yes, we will have much to talk about upon my return home. I will not lament over La Bella's wedding; she is going on to life now, a new one for herself as well as the new one God has seen fit to help her create; I would not spoil her happiness, or mine for her, with negative passions._

_As to the question of my retinue, I know Our Holy Father desires me to be surrounded by two or three hundred courtiers, at least, but it is not my desire to have so many souls here, resentful at being shackled to my grief. In time I will increase the number to one befitting His desire, but the solitude, while oppressive on one hand, is actually quite soothing, on the other, I find. I need this, dear Mother—at least, I will keep telling myself that._

_In the meantime, I will take comfort in the fact that I have been embraced by the people here. I have my Giovanni and want for nothing myself. I am as content as God will allow me to be. Should he allow me anything more I will be happily surprised, but dare not to hold breath on it._

_There are only a few issues that truly cause my consternation, at the moment. One, I need more clothes for Giovanni; please raid his nursery and send the rest of his wardrobe to me and the funds to buy material for him—there is a lovely shop in the square that I would buy fabrics from for Miracella—she so loves to design and sew his special linens and there are events coming up soon where he should be so appropriately attired. Twenty thousand ducats should be more than enough to set me straight in that regard, with ample left over, for the rest of the year and then some, I would think. Please ask His Holiness to release the funds? I would so appreciate it._

_The other issues are mine to remedy, although I would seek your assistance in the following matter. I find that one in my employ is responsible for more vile rumors about me than the townspeople here, which has greatly surprised me, and caused my great disappointment. He is a coachman in particular, that I would release soon, but I wish to have his replacement vetted and ready to take his place when I do so. Would you recommend one to me that you find to be trustworthy and able to be spared from your own employ? I want no more hires from the Basilica, truth be told. I am most fortunate that the rest of my staff are as loyal as they are, but, one bad apple...you know the rest, dear Mother. Barring any seriously egregious behavior by him that would constitute his immediate dismissal, I would be able to wait for the one you might find acceptable to put forward to me._

_The last issue is one that is surely my own to command. Its name is Cardinal Pietro Bembo. He was sent here by Our Holy Father, and let me just say that, even as I write this, many things in this letter may surely be old news to Him already._

_The cardinal is pleasant enough and has been most helpful to me in my duties here, but I will say, though he has crossed no physical line of propriety, his smile is a thing of most criminal intent, as sweet as it may appear. He affects me, mother, when I would chose not to be. I limit my interaction as much as is possible, but we are much thrown together; I have told him on more than one occasion that a woman in mourning should not be smiled at in such a manner, but he truly ignores my plea. As it is, and not because of him, I attend to my duties, take my meals in my suite and retire as early as Giovanni allows me. That is the extent of the majority of my days here. I am trying to avoid scandal, for I have had more than enough of that in my life, through my own fault and otherwise. He is most annoying. He is attractive enough: tall, fit; his hair is the fashion of the day, long and spiraled; his hazel eyes are always smiling, his face, as well—everything about him smiles! It is maddening! He would remind me of Cesare if only he was not ever smiling. And how would I command him, you ask? Well, let us say, dear Mother, that I learned much from the village witch during my short stay in Naples. If the cardinal only knew as much he would most definitely inflict his smiles elsewhere._

_Giovanni has just awakened; there is not enough parchment in the world that could contain all that I wish to say to you, but I must go and I really wish to get this on its journey to you. Be well, Mother and know that my love is always with you._

_Ever your loving daughter,_

_La Infelicissima_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia sealed her letter and made haste to the kitchen where her staff was having breakfast.

"Good morning, everyone..." she addressed the group brightly; they all stood at her attention and greeted her.

"No, no, I did not mean to interrupt, please take your seats," she smiled at them. Pietra, would you please give this to the messenger after he has his breakfast?"

"Yes, my Lady, he should be down any minute now."

"Thank you."

"I am here, my Lady—I would be happy to go now," the young man assured her.

"No, have your sustenance, please..."

"A loaf of bread, a canteen of your delicious mineral water—that is all that I need, my Lady, though your generosity is much appreciated," he bowed at her.

Lucrezia handed him her letter. "Tell the Contessa fifty ducats to you from my funds, do you understand? If I had it I would give it you myself."

"Thank you,my Lady, and my pleasure." He gave her another bow and waited as Pietra gathered a loaf of bread and filled his canteen, then made haste to his horse.

"Allow me, my Lady," came a voice from behind her—it was Cardinal Pietro Bembo; he stopped the young man and paid him out of his own pocket. "And another fifty, young man, for so pleasing our Lady and for your most admirable diligence."

"Thank you, Your Eminence," he gave him a bow and then left them.

Bembo turned his attention, and his smiling face, back to Lucrezia. Rather than have the staff be a party to her discomfort she walked out of the room and led him away as she spoke.

"Thank you, cardinal..." she said within earshot of the staff. "That was appreciated but most unnecessary," she finished, her face flushed and her tone hot when they entered the main hall. "What on God's earth are you doing here at this hour?"

"I need to discuss something with you, my Lady."

"I have no cases today, this is a day of rest for me."

"I am aware of that. Walk with me to the garden..." he took her arm and led her away despite the scowl upon her face.

"Cardinal, you will unhand me..." she demanded. He did no such thing as he led her to a private spot behind a tall hedge.

"I desire you, Lady Lucrezia—you know this...from the moment I saw you," he said, with ever that smile upon his face, full of mischief and lust.

"You are young man; a poet; an artist; inclined toward the dramatic and, in this case, the impossible. I am a woman in mourning—worse—a _Borgia_ in mourning. I find your attentions impolitic and disrespectful and—"

Bembo took her gently into his embrace and cut her off with a kiss. When their lips parted Lucrezia made to give him a hearty slap but he caught her hand and stilled it.

"I see that my desire for you falls on deaf ears and blind eyes—and cold lips, my Lady. You loved him very much, your late husband."

That Pietro sounded amazed at his revelation was not lost on Lucrezia, but the look of amusement on his face angered her; in her mind's eye she saw the man that brought the blush to her cheeks and the fire to her loins and she held back a tear; for, unknown to Pietro, it was the ever-constant effort to subdue her burning desire for that man that he had been witnessing—not the man the world knew as her departed husband. She quelled her tears and looked a defiant challenge into his own piercing gaze upon her.

"Yes," she answered him simply.

"Is there no room for another...here?" He dared to lower her hand, grasped within his, to the middle of her chest.

"How can you possibly ask such a question of a woman whose husband has been only a week laid to his rest, Cardinal Bembo? Have you no honor about yourself?" Lucrezia yanked her hand out of his.

"You love a ghost; I am a living, breathing man—I am here, he is not..."

His words sent a shudder through her as she thought of her Cesare.

"You may never love me as you loved him, but I will not be swayed; I know that you desire me, Lucrezia Borgia, and for now I shall find succor in that—and in one more kiss..."

She deftly avoided his lips. "Love? What do you know of love? You speak not of love, but of lust..."

"I speak of lust _and_ of love to a woman who is at war with herself over both, despite her state of mourning—I've seen you looking at me when you thought you were unnoticed, weighing the possibility of me in your mind, and I know I have not imagined it..."

"You have..." she protested weakly.

"I have not," his lips came closer to hers again.

"I have known you for all of a week..." she said indignantly as she leaned her head away from his.

"I understand that you decided to marry your late Prince after knowing him for all of one day..." he whispered at her.

"How dare you! I will honor that bit of gossip with neither a question as to where you heard it or any answer about it," she said through narrow, angry eyes.

"So, it is true..." he teased her lips with the soft brush of his against them.

"You are impossible!"

"Far from it, my Lady..." he nuzzled her ear with his nose and then inflicted a kiss upon her neck.

"Cardinal, please, stop this...surely you are a man of reason," she sighed at him, worn out and beyond exasperation...and more aroused than she wanted to admit to herself, but determined to see her way clear of him. "You work for my father; you know who I am; you know that I am a prisoner of the politics of powerful men—my life is not my own; I am only here until my father marries me to one of his choosing; were it not for my son, I would jump into Lake Trasimeno and drown myself, and be delivered from all of the torment that comprises my life. I like you; I do find you compelling; but we have no future together and a tryst in the bushes will _not_ bring _me_ the succor that it would apparently bring to you."

Pietro released her from his embrace. Her sad words and talk of suicide greatly disturbed him; were the rumors about the Prince true? Was he in fact murdered by her brother, the Duke of Valentinois? Had the murder been ordered by her father, the Pope, in favor of a more beneficial alliance? If it was true, did she suspect? Or did she know it? For there was truly something about her that was as a cloak, worn as a shield and for protection against prying eyes. Or worse—was it true and she had no idea that her happiness could be so betrayed by her own flesh and blood?

At that moment Pietro knew he should fear for his own life, for he had been dispatched by the Pope to watch over her; assist her; report to Him concerning her well-being, more aptly known as staying abreast of the public attitude regarding her, which had, to that point remained favorable.

She needed to be a success for the Pope did, indeed, have grander plans for her. The worst seeds of gossip Pietro had heard had been planted by her own staff, namely, the combative coachman who was typically deep in his cups every night by the stroke of midnight—Tomas Gambino. So far his drunken grumblings had fallen on deaf ears, but he was a disgruntled man and prone to violence. Rome had suited his temperament and given him many outlets to carry on his anonymous and violent propensities; but in small, quiet, family-oriented Nepi he was a bull in a china shop; if he didn't reign himself in, he would be a dead man.

The fear he should have felt, was absent, but the love Pietro felt for Lucrezia was real. To hear her sad words only made his heart go out to her more and convinced him that the poor woman, whatever the truth was about her husband's demise, was not a party to the Pope's desires, at all. He didn't know that he would meet the woman and fall head over heels in love with her, but he had; regardless of what the Pope wanted of him he wanted to be a true friend to her at the very least, and more, if ever she would even consider it. He took a respectful step away from her and bowed in apology.

"No, you are wrong about me, in spite of my dishonorable behavior, my Lady; this will sound just as dishonorable, but please hear me out: I would make love to you this way every day, if you let me, but I would endeavor more to be considered a friend. I have truly fallen in love with you, I will not deny it, but please accept my sincerest apology and kindly find it in your heart to give me the chance to prove that I can be exactly that."

He dared to take her hand to his lips and reverently kissed the back of it, never taking his sparkling hazel eyes away from hers; with a smile that was the saddest she had seen him level at her he gave another slight bow and then silently took his leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah! Our son! Come to me!" Rodrigo gave Cesare a hearty hug.

"Holy Father."

"Sit...sit..." he directed his son to the chair opposite his desk. "How did you leave Forli?"

"The repairs to the damaged battlements are coming along nicely and should be complete soon; the people are still satisfied with their current administration—all is well. Has the Countess budged at all?"

" _That_ lady..." Rodrigo gave a snort of disgust. "Not an inch...of course We expected as much. The trial begins soon."

"Hmm..." Cesare sighed as he thought of Caterina in her apartment prison. He knew what kind of man his father was in regards to the carnal delights he favored most, and none of them entailed that which Caterina had so feared of him. He had seen that there was no way he could verbally assuage her fears, but he had hoped that his father's actual dealing with her would accomplish the same end and maybe allow her to steel her pride and acquiesce. It was disappointing but far from surprise that she had not done so. "And how is mother?"

"Busy, ever busy...she has been in constant correspondence with your sister and brother, so she is quite happy," Rodrigo smiled to himself at the thought of his Vannozza.

"And how are my siblings?" Cesare asked casually, busying himself with the task of unhooking his cloak, making sure to look anywhere but into his father's eyes.

"Gioffre has finally learned how to handle his Sancia," Rodrigo chuckled.

"Oh? And in what way would that be?"

"By handling other—more accommodating—ladies of the court in her stead. But then, what's good for the goose is good for the gander, We hazard to say."

Cesare was not as amused. "He deserves better—he always did. And Lucrezia? Have you someone ready for me to vet?"

"We do," Rodrigo smiled, like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Cesare gave an impatient sigh and waited. "Well?"

"Alfonso d'Este, Duke of Ferrara...you will meet with him tomorrow night."

"Very well," he said only, displaying no emotion about the news in any way.

"Very well. Your dispatch of Yves d 'Alegre was magnificent, Cesare, well done."

"Thank you, Holy Father. Where is he now?"

"Taking his rest before the banquet tonight. We have other news for you..."

"Yes?"

"Indeed—it appears that Monsignore Agnelli of Mantua, archbishop of Cosenza, clerk of the chamber and vice-legate of Viterbo, was poisoned at his dinner a few nights ago—We have divided up his possessions, Cesare—his lands and houses will go to you," Rodrigo beamed at his son.

Cesare let out a incredulous guffaw and was momentarily speechless. "How? His family...their claim—how can you do this?"

"How can We do this? How can We..." Rodrigo let out a hearty laugh. "We are the Pope of Rome!" he shook his head and a finger at Cesare as if he were a naughty schoolboy, ever through his irrepressible smile. "Franceso Borgia has been installed as Bishop..."

"Your cousin..."

"Our cousin...the office of the clerk of chamber has gone to one Ventura Bonnassai, who will be at the banquet tonight."

"You mean sold, do you not?" Cesare smirked at him.

"Now Cesare, let Us not be indelicate..."

"Again I ask you...how?" Cesare cocked his head and lifted an intrigued eyebrow at his father.

"His natural heirs tried to contest the action—a lot of crying and moaning over being disinherited," Rodrigo shook his head dismissively, his voice full of annoyed disregard, "but a precedent has been set; We issued a Papal Brief, Cesare—henceforth, no cardinal or priest has the right to make a will—their property, upon death shall pass on to the Pope of Rome."

"And you are still alive—God indeed loves you, Holy Father," Cesare said then with an astounded shake of his head.

"We had better be alive," Rodrigo grumbled at him indignantly with a frown upon his face.

"No offense, Holy Father, and no disrespect, but you do keep things interesting here in the Holy City."

"Yes, enough of that..." Rodrigo cautioned him.

"And my deepest gratitude—Viterbo, no less."

"Yes, Viterbo...and after tonight's festivities We take our meeting tomorrow morning and discuss the strategies to take the rest of the Romagna—with the support of King Louis it is soon to be yours!" his father said excitedly.

"Yes, well, I shall reserve myself at present..." Cesare said then, quite unaffected by his father's enthusiasm.

"Do you doubt that you will have success, Cesare?"

"No—to have success one must see it, indeed, clearly, in the mind's eye, and that I do; I would just save celebration of it until I see it with my physical eyes, Holy Father," he admitted simply.

"Yes, as is your habit, indeed—foregoing celebration", Rodrigo harrumphed, thinking back on the celebration he was denied when Cesare became the Papal Gonfalonier; as in most things his son was most nontraditional and it had ever been a difficult part of his personality for his father to adjust to. "Hmm..."

"What is it, Holy Father?" Cesare knew well that contemplative grumble.

"Nothing...nothing..."

"Very good. Well, if that is all for the moment..."

"It is."

"Then I shall follow the good ambassador's example and go refresh myself before the banquet, as well." Cesare and Rodrigo rose from their seats and then he went to his father's open arms.

"Tomorrow morning, Cesare, the Ambassador, General d'Alegre; tomorrow evening, the Duke of Ferrara...We are on Our way, Cesare—at last—do not doubt that," his father gave a reassuring tousle to his curly locks; Cesare only nodded then broke away from his father, ever reserved and unsmiling—then made haste from his father's apartment and headed for his mother's palazzo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare! My Cesare!" Vannozza rushed to greet her son at the top of the second floor stairs, her arms open, a smile on her face stretched from ear to ear; Cesare took his mother into his arms and hugged her mightily. "Come...come—to the dining room," she took his hand and led him gleefully away. When he was seated she poured them both a goblet of wine then sat and joined him. "Congratulations on your triumph this morning..." she raised her glass for a toast.

"Thank you, mother. And how are you? Father assures me that you are happy—is it true?"

"I...I was, Cesare—I have been in constant communication with your brother and sister—and now you are home again," she beamed at him. "I could be truly ecstatic, if only..." her smile faded as she looked away.

"What? What is it, mother?" Cesare asked her in alarm as he reached his hand across the table for hers.

"Gioffre is becoming more of man with each rising of the sun; despite the sad state of affairs that is his marriage, he is getting along well in Squillace; your success makes my heart soar; but our dear daughter..."

"What mother? What of Lucrezia?" he demanded.

"Her letters are so sad, Cesare, so very sad; she tries to maintain a bright outlook, but it is the truest facade."

"What is her trouble, mother?"

"Humph, what isn't..." Vannozza replied, sounding completely scandalized as she took her hand away from her son's and into the wringing grip of her other.

"Mother, what?" he shook his head at her in complete frustration.

"She's been a success at Nepi, Cesare, so far, at least; there is a coachman who troubles her, for one, spreading gossip while he drowns himself in drink at the taverns every night and even when he's not; she asked me to find a trustworthy replacement for him and then she will dismiss him..."

"Have you? Found one?"

"I have...he leaves for Nepi in two days..."

"And what else?"

"She has become quite despondent, Cesare—I don't think she would ever do such a thing, but she speaks of death, much too much...she tries to hide behind speaking in jest, but she's made too much mention of walking into the lake and drowning herself..."

Cesare looked aghast at his mother and screwed his face up further in shocked disbelief as he struggled to get out any words, which he was unable to do.

"I would not take such comments so seriously if..."

"If? If what?" he managed.

"She is with child again, Cesare...two children now that she will have to abandon when her father marries her again..." her tears came then born upon little choked, tormented sobs.

Cesare was again speechless; he went to his mother, took a seat beside her and gathered her into his loving embrace. "Is she sure?" he asked her quietly.

"Her cycle has always been more accurate than a sundial—she is sure, Cesare, for she has missed it..." Vannozza lamented.

"How long? How far along is she?"

"Ah, yes...how long must she be kept from the negotiations of her father, you mean—he must have someone ready to contract," his mother replied bitterly, thinking that Cesare's desperate concern was thus; though it pained him he knew that he would have to let her think it, for he could never voice the reason to her of his truest concern.

"How far along, mother," he asked her through closed eyes and the resolve to hold his frustration.

"A month, at most...at least this one will be legitimate and entitled to his fair consideration, whether the house of Aragon desires to give it or not," she said through a heavy sigh.

Cesare struggled to contain himself and keep his wild thoughts from broadcasting all over his face; he rose from his mother and began to pace the floor.

"So, has he?" Vannozza asked him then.

"What? Has he?"

"Your father—has he found her next husband already?"

"Yes..." he turned away from her again; he tried to still the knot of anxiety was that burning in the pit of his stomach and rising upward, as if made of tangible flame, making his chest tight, his throat dry and ending with a pressure in head that made him feel as if it would explode.

"Who then?"

A tear had formed at the corner of his eye and Cesare wiped it away as he tried to collect himself enough to face his mother again. "The Duke of Ferrara—Alfonso d'Este. I am to vet him tomorrow night," he said as he turned back to her.

"Your father does keep you busy, does he not?" she said with a crooked smile on her frowning face.

"Is there anything that you know of him, mother? Anything at all?"

"I know that his late wife was Anna Sforza—Gian Sforza's sister, whose lands you are soon to acquire in Pesaro. I have heard that she was quite beloved by him. I've heard that he is a great patron of the arts—and an even greater one of the brothels, since his wife's death."

Cesare gave a disgusted sigh. "Of course father does not yet know—he is too ecstatic over current events for it to be otherwise..." he said more to himself than to his mother.

"Indeed..." Vannozza replied.

"Have you heard of his latest exploit? Over the vice-legate of Viterbo?"

"Are you kidding? The cardinals have been in the most vocal uproar...one can't go to mass without suffering the steely glare of the clerics. Congratulations on your newest acquisition. I say again, Cesare, he does keep you busy..."

"That, he does...and I must leave you now to go to a banquet in the French ambassador's honor; tomorrow we negotiate in earnest and then I will see the Duke. When you send your replacement forward to Nepi he will have company, mother..." he told her ominously.

"You will go to her," his mother brightened.

"Yes; I will try to put her at ease, mother, to the best of my ability and convince her to impart her news to father—it should at least earn her a trip back home and then to the convent when the time is necessary, but here in Rome where you can see about her."

"Oh, my love! Yes...yes, Cesare, with all of my blessings, please make it so," Vannozza cried as she went to him and hugged him mightily; Cesare kissed the top of her head. "Take your ease, mother, and have your man ready for I will come to collect him the day after tomorrow."

"Yes, my love," she said through silent tears of relief as she released him.

Cesare gave his mother a stern, but reassuring nod of his head and then left her.


	20. Alliance

"Verbum incarnatum. His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus of that name, calls to order a meeting of the sacred College of Cardinals. In attendance today, Ambassador General to King Louis the Twelfth of France, Yves d'Alegre; and His Excellence, the Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia."

Burchart went to his customary seat behind the Pope and began his transcription of the meeting as the consistory took their seats; Cesare and the General stood on the red carpet before the Papal throne and when the Pope held out his ring the General approached first to bend his knee and kiss it, then Cesare.

"Ah, General, We are most happy to receive you this morning. Has your accommodation been satisfactory?"

"Yes, Your Holiness, and thank you for the honor of that fine banquet last evening, the hospitality exacted by the Holy Mother Church, and of Rome, is most graciously appreciated."

"Very good. It is Our understanding that you bring tidings from King Louis of France and seek Our assistance in the matter of Naples?"

"Yes, Your Holiness."

"Well, please proceed and kindly state your case."

"Yes, Your Holiness. The King desires for me to tell you that, in his quest to take Naples, he would grant to His Excellency, the Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia, in addition to the army he now commands, an additional thousand French lances; four thousand Swiss and six thousand Gascons; and further, that Philip of Rabenstein shall bring by sea six Breton and Provencal ships, as well as three Genoese galleons carrying six-thousand and five hundred, more than willing and most capable, aggressors."

"Are these forces available now, General?"

"Yes, Your Holiness, the ground forces have already been dispatched and are tented just outside of San Marino, Your Holiness...an hour's ride from Pesaro..." General d'Alegre included none too subtly.

"And the ships?"

"Moored off the coast of Rimini at ready command, Your Holiness."

"And your King asks for what consideration in return?"

"After successful conquest, with the aid of the expert Duke of Valentinois, the King would seek investiture from His Holiness, the Pope of Rome, as master of Naples, of the town of Lavore and the Abruzzi, and to bear the title of King of Naples and Jerusalem; and asks that said investiture is to be shared with Queen Isabella the Catholic, of Spain, by way of treaty between herself and King Louis, who shall herself hold title to Apulia and Calabria as the Duchess of those provinces."

Beside him it was all that Cesare could do to keep a smile from his face, yet he managed well.

"Very well, General d'Alegre, We shall grant—"

"Ah, my most humble pardon, Your Holiness the King has another request..." d'Alegre managed to interrupt Rodrigo.

"Oh?" Rodrigo asked him, masking his fluster well, and his immediate anger.

"Yes, Your Holiness; King Louis has noted the appreciated service of one of your esteemed cardinals during your negotiations with our dear late King Charles the Eighth and would ask for his inclusion in the campaign; that he would join the Duke of Valentinois, and on behalf of the Holy Mother Church, accompany him to battle so that he may bless the army as they endeavor to honor their Pope, their commanders and Rome."

"You are speaking of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere..." Rodrigo stated with a grimace upon his face. "We would be inclined to oblige you, General, however, We know not where the Cardinal has secreted himself to of late. We would happily supply one of Our other fine brother cardinals to your service."

"That will not be necessary, Your Holiness, for we know well where Cardinal della Rovere has been and indeed, where he is..."

At that moment all eyes in the room turned to the sound of the heavy wooden double-doors opening and the sight of Giuliano della Rovere entering the room; the surprised and scandalized whispers of the consistory accompanied his eager gait down the red carpet, an easy smile upon his face as his eyes looked to and locked only on Rodrigo's. Again, Cesare found himself striving hard to suppress an impulse, and somehow managed to keep his hand at the hilt of his sword but leave it in its scabbard.

"Your Holiness..." della Rovere went before his Pope, knelt and waited for his outstretched hand to greet him; Rodrigo leaned back into his throne on one elbow and put his hand to his mouth as he glared at the man; finally, and in obvious disdain, he offered his ring slowly to the waiting cardinal to kiss. Giuliano rose, still smiling, then took his place back on the carpet before the throne and sandwiched the General between himself and Cesare. "I would humbly beg your pardon, Holiness, as I was drawn away to see to pressing family business, after which I availed myself to France to acquaint myself to the new King and offer my sincerest condolences on the death of our dear King Charles," he concluded with a bow.

"We are sure," Rodrigo pronounced slowly with a steely glare at the man.

"Your Holiness?" The General addressed him delicately, "may the King find your favor in this regard?"

Rodrigo rose from his throne and smiled at the three men before him. "He will. Upon successful acquisiton, Investiture will be granted by Us, Pope Alexander Sixtus, faithful servant of the Holy Mother Church of Rome, to King Louis the Twelfth of France and Queen Isabella the Catholic of Spain in the matter Naples, Italy. As it is written so it shall be so. Vade cum Deo. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen," he gave the sign of the cross at them and stepped down to shake the General's hand. "Now, please excuse Us as We have other pressing matters to attend. It has been Our pleasure to host you, Ambassador General; please give Our warmest regards and thanks to King Louis." With a final nod to them all left for his chambers, with cardinal Ascanio Sforza and Johannes Burchart in tow.

Cesare braced himself and stood taller as della Rovere approached him.

"Your Excellence."

"Cardinal," Cesare greeted him tersely as he looked intently into the man's eyes. Before either man could get out another word they were converged upon by the rest of the consistory with congratulations, bids of welcome to della Rovere and careful questions directed at them both.

"Cardinals, I shall leave you to your happy reunion with your brother cardinal, for the Ambassador General must make haste back to France," he told them pleasantly as he deftly ushered the ambassador away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Cesare escorted the ambassador away and out of the city gates he made haste back to Castel Sant'Angelo and found his father pacing the floor in the salon of his apartment.

"Why?" Cesare demanded of his father through flaring nostrils and heat rising away from him almost visible to the eye.

"How would We know why, Cesare, or what deal della Rovere has struck with the King?"

"The traitor...the coward!"

"A most cunning coward; his ruse is easily seen through—We know why he did what he did, but not why the King obliged him, that is the question."

"A most consternating one."

"But then again..."

"What?"

"Maybe the King balks at the power We would attain with the marriage of Our Lucrezia to the Duke of Ferrara...the support of Mantua and Urbino this marriage assures irritates him, to say the least—he did try his hand at marrying off one his French princesses to him to further his own influence, did he not? We remember that the Duke made mention of it when last he was here, just before Lucrezia married Alfonso. He set eyes upon her one time, you know, and was immediately smitten; enough so that the French princess was a temptation no longer even though Lucrezia was no option for him."

"Do you really think..."

"We can not say for sure, but della Rovere has no real bearing on you, Cesare, either way. What will he have to report to anyone except your victories in battle, in any case? No, della Rovere is buying himself time and favor with the consistory; he'll be most harmonious on the field with you, but he still plots against Us both; his previous flight from Rome indicted him to sure failure of his truest goal; he had to make a grand gesture and putting himself forward in this manner is public relations at its finest; this is all about future votes, Cesare, pure and simple, and the consistory, save for Our cousin cardinals, are stupid, most of them, and easily swayed by such a tactic. Maybe you'll find a way to leave Our nemesis alone and conveniently unprotected on the battlefield, hmm? To be felled by the arrow of your enemy..." Rodrigo chuckled as his mind happily envisioned his words.

"What battle?' Cesare snorted disgustedly. "Micheletto informs me that Gian Sforza is already deep into preparations to flee Pesaro, there will be no archers to put him in the path of."

"Well...then...perhaps the battle at Naples will afford a better opportunity, hmm?"

"We can only hope," he harrumphed at his father.

"Yes, well what would Heaven be without Hell..."

Cesare gave his father an unappreciative look.

"Really, now, We must concentrate on other things—the Duke of Ferrara, hmm?"

"Yes, the Duke."

Rodrigo gave his son a look. "What is this? Such distaste in your voice—have you reason already?"

"I am trying to keep an open mind, Holy Father, but mother tells me he does have quite an affinity for the company of whores."

"Well, what man doesn't?" Rodrigo chuckled.

"This is the man we are considering to marry your beloved daughter, or had you forgotten?"

"Do not take that tone with _Us_ , Cesare," his father hissed at him. "Such an affinity could be a blessing in disguise; as long as he is not a violent man—a brute—that fact, a sumptuous wing to herself and a padlocked door could equal a most happy existence. Even your mother would agree with Us on that..."

Cesare only grunted his disgust. "That is no happy existence, that is prison."

"Enough of that! We understand that you will away to Nepi to apprise your dear sister of the happy news?"

"Have we decided already, then?" Cesare shot back at him angrily.

"Cesare, please..." his father gave a heavy sigh of exasperation at him as he took a seat on his divan and put his hand to his throbbing temple, "there is absolutely no talking to you when you get this way, please calm yourself. We understand your desire to see to your sister's happiness, but give the man a chance, at least, hmm?"

"What you care about is this alliance, father..."

"And you do not?" his father leveled right back at him. Rodrigo waited for his answer. "We are on the cusp of a kingdom, Cesare; you are upset over della Rovere, that is all, for you were fine about this only days ago." Rodrigo rose from his seat and went to his son, who was fuming and facing away from him; he put a reassuring hand to Cesare's shoulder and with a voice full of love made his appeal. "Cesare, we shall vet him; we shall find that he will be a success for your sister—and for Us. I've done a good bit of investigating on my own, son, and I have more than positive feelings about this _marriage_ —a true marriage, Cesare. Do you understand me? I know well what I owe to your dear sister. Please try to find your ease and have some faith in _me_ , hmm?" he begged his son softly.

Cesare turned to face his father, shaking with rage; he knew that his father had most likely met his goal to finally do right by Lucrezia; as much as he wanted to be happy about it for her all he could do was lament his own breaking heart.

"Give them to me, my son, your tears of frustration, for you are entitled every now and then, are you not?" his father said soothingly when he saw them at corner of his eyes and his son's trembling lips; he embraced him and Cesare allowed the respite in his father's strong embrace. "I do love you so, my son and I am determined to see to your sister's happiness, as well as your own."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The appointed hour had finally come to meet with Alfonso d'Este. The private interview was held in the same chamber where the annulment proceedings in the dissolution of Lucrezia's marriage to Giovanni Sforza had been held; this time, Vannozza dei Cattanei sat in the gilded cell that shielded her from the view of the participants but allowed her surreptitious privy to the events about to unfold before her. She was already seated and quietly waiting when Rodrigo entered the room first from a secret door behind her; he gave her a wink and took his seat at the head of a long table. Next, Cesare and the Duke entered together from the main double-doors into the room; Rodrigo stood as Alfonso approached to kiss his ring, after which the three men sat down, Cesare and Alfonso opposite each other on either side of Rodrigo.

He wasn't bad to look at, not bad at all, Vannozza mused to herself. He didn't have the boyish good looks of the late Prince, but that was a good thing, for the Prince had been as boyish and unaccomplished as his looks had implied; he was not as handsome as her Rodrigo or Cesare yet he was just as manly, which was also a good thing; only four years older than Lucrezia he had the look of a man in command, which was necessary, from what she and Rodrigo had discovered; the man was a champion of his own father, ever protecting him from the nefarious exploits of his own brother and half-brother. There had been many plots against Ercole d'Este that Alfonso had spoiled magnificently, thus saving his father's life. Only time would tell if the brothers would succeed in their treasonous activities, but her bet was on Alfonso.

His hair was quite curly and short, as the Prince's had been—Lucrezia would like that about him; but his beard was formidable for one so young—Lucrezia would not like that. Well, at the charms of a beautiful woman a man might just trim a beard, she chuckled to herself silently. His eyes were kind though his smile was stiff—understandable under the circumstances, of course.

Vannozza knew that her observations were shallow, but a husband had to be pleasured after all, and such a thing worked so much for the better when one's stomach did not churn in repulsion at the sight of his face or the touch of his hand, and God forbid, both cases. His other qualities, the ones that suited Rodrigo and Cesare were, of course, without reproach. The final test would be the words that came out of his mouth.

"Most Esteemed Duke, We welcome you to Vatican City, to Our Holy Mother Church and thank you for the consideration of the hand of Our dear daughter in the matter of marriage."

"Thank you, Your Holiness, it is my pleasure to be here and my honor to be considered in contention for your Dear Daughter's hand."

_So far, so good,_ Vannozza thought.

"How do you fare after your travels here?"

"Wonderfully, Your Holiness, Your Excellence," he said to Cesare then, "Your hospitality is most appreciated."

"You are most welcomed. So We shall get to it, yes Duke?"

"As you wish, Your Holiness...Your Excellence."

"Do not be afraid to be honest with Us—why would you desire Our daughter's hand in marriage and what do you hope to offer her?"

"Thank you Your Holiness. I have desired your daughter since I first set eyes upon her not two years ago. If you remember I was here in the Holy City on other business with you, during the time the Lady was considering marriage and before she so honored the Prince of Naples."

Cesare's jaws clamped tighter shut at the Duke's perfect answer, but Rodrigo and Vannozza were both duly impressed.

"So your desire for her is sincere?"

"It is, Your Holiness...Your Excellence."

"And what else will you offer her?"

"Safety, Your Holiness, for I shall speak frankly—you both have many foes..."

_Uh-oh_ , thought Vannozza.

"Of which you can count me as _not_ ," he continued. "I would champion your endeavors, Your Holiness, and yours, Your Excellence, the same as I champion the interests of my beloved father—whom no doubt you have investigated and found that my skills at doing so have been exercised well—and not yet bested—at the hands of my brother Ippolito and half-brother, Giulio; I would champion her and the whole of your family, upon pain of death, the same as I have my own beloved father and will continue to do as long as I draw breath.

"I would offer her my lands and a court, and a city that is ready to welcome her if she so chooses to come claim it. Last but not least I would offer her my love, if she would have me."

He sounded sincere and Vannozza issued her silent but enthusiastic bravo at him.

Cesare looked to his father then, wondering if he would bring up the man's propensity for whoring about but the pleased look on Rodrigo's face only told him that his father was happy to let well-enough alone.

"Your words and sentiments are most pleasing, young Duke. We endeavor that Our daughter will find the same to be true for herself. You have Our blessing to marry Our daughter, should she be so inclined to honor your proposal."

"Thank you, Your Holiness." Alfonso looked back at Cesare.

"Holy Father," Cesare addressed him without taking his eyes off of Alfonso. "You have given your blessing for the proposal of marriage and that I honor. I would like to speak in private to the Duke now, informally, as one brother-in-law-to-be to another. May I?"

_Uh-oh_ , Vannozza bit her tongue physically and waited with bated breath for Rodrigo's answer.

"Ah...yes—We have no objection if the Duke does not."

"I would be honored, Your Holiness...Your Excellence," the man said, undaunted by Cesare's angry glare.

"Well then, We shall bid you both good night. We look forward to breaking fast with you in the morning, Duke, and hope that your evening is pleasant and restful." Rodrigo stood to leave and Alfonso stood with him.

_Cesare, stand up..._ Vannozza hissed at her son silently.

As if he had heard her Cesare rose to his feet to see his father off.

"Good night, Your Holiness."

"Good night, Holy Father."

Rodrigo nodded at them and exited through the main doors. The two men took their seats. Cesare glared at him a long while before he spoke as Alfonso waited patiently and without attitude or intimidation.

"Let me start by saying that I speak as a concerned brother who loves his sister dearly," he began through tight lips.

"Yes, of course, Your Excellence."

"I have heard, and correct me if I am wrong, that you are a regular visitor to the brothels of Ferrara."

"I am only a man, Your Excellence, and not without sin," he said simply, without excuse or apology.

"Hmm. Will this activity stop upon your marriage to my sister?"

"That depends upon your sister, Your Excellency."

Cesare and Vannozza both were taken aback by his bluntness.

"What do you mean? Explain yourself."

"If you sister desires me as much as I desire her already, yes, such activity will stop. But we all know that you and your father, at this point, desire this marriage more than your sister does, and I may not be so honored by her desire, in which case, being the sinful man that I am, such activity would not stop. At least until such time, if ever, that Lady Lucrezia may desire my affections in kind."

Cesare took a deep breath. He could understand such a sentiment and it was actually as considerate as it was practical, given the circumstances. Of course, he was a man. He wondered what his mother was thinking.

"I appreciate your frankness in all things, thus far, and will be the same with you, now. You know that my sister has a child—a bastard."

"Yes, Your Excellence."

"What are your feelings about that child?"

"I know that the prevailing thoughts of the day dictate that her child not be presented at court, as a matter of propriety. I know that the Lady has been separated from her child once before. However, I like children, and I would like hers, on genuine principle. However, I would propose a compromise in the matter of the child, in order that her happiness and his, would be a tangible part of their lives as opposed to be missing from it."

"Oh? And what type of compromise would that possibly be?"

"Could not the boy be presented at court after her arrival? Say within two months, and presented as a nephew? Or some such other family member that a woman would be so inclined to take in?"

"You would honor that?"

"I certainly would. I would have the Lady happy, Your Excellence; I would not like to be the cause of a mother and her son to be so cruelly kept from one another. Regardless of the prevailing thoughts of the day I simply do not see the need for it."

It was all Vannozza could do not to scream out in joy.

"Would that sentiment extend to any other children of hers? For example, if she found that she was pregnant with her late husband's child?"

Vannozza went from wanting to scream out in joy to just trying to keep her mouth shut and the spit down, for she felt faint.

"Is she, Your Excellence?"

"I do not know, I haven't seen her lately; but I hear that she has been sickly and the complaints sound the same as those she experienced during her first pregnancy. It could be a false alarm. But if it wasn't?"

"But this child would be legitimate, entitled to his father's name and inheritance, I would think."

"Yes."

"I would still seek a way to honor the child's legitimacy, his mother's honor and his inclusion at court. I would be open to any and all suggestions of that of yours and His Holiness, Your Excellence. I would only ask one thing."

_Here it is...I knew he was too good to be true..._ thought Vannozza then.

"I would only ask that if the Lady is with child, she would impart the information truthfully and herself to me."

"I know my sister, sir—she is incapable of doing anything otherwise. She has never denied her child to anyone, though others endeavored to have her do so. She would not start now, no matter how fortuitous the alliance may be or how it might be jeopardized, and I would not fault her."

"You are a brother to love, Your Excellence. Every sister should be so blessed."

"I wanted to hate you, Alfonso, but I simply cannot," Cesare admitted then.

"I am honored, Your Excellence to—"

"Cesare, good sir, please."

"Cesare..." Alfonso held his hand out to him and Cesare took it, in earnest and in friendship.


	21. Rumor Has It

"Out! Out! I can't get out!" Vannozza cried excitedly as she tried to extricate herself from her cell; Rodrigo heard her and rushed back into the room to free her.

"Cesare! Did you not hear your mother?"

"He only just left the room—I haven't even closed the door on him properly..." he frowned at them. "He probably heard you, mother..."

"So what if he did—Rodrigo, he is perfect for our darling! Absolutely perfect! I cannot contain myself—Cesare himself admitted his liking to him..."

"What? Really?" A broad smile broke across his face. "This is most splendid...most splendid—now Cesare, you must convince your sister of the same, yes?"

Cesare cast a long glare at his mother; he had hoped to talk to her before his father came back in but he could see that would not happen soon.

"So...tell me—what did he and Cesare talk about, then?"

Cesare looked again at his mother and waited; Vannozza realized then that she could not reveal all of the conversation, for Cesare had broached a subject that Rodrigo knew nothing of at that point; she looked knowingly at her son and calmed herself accordingly.

"He would endeavor to have Giovanni at court, Rodrigo—in what ever manner you might see fit to arrange—call him a nephew; a cousin; whatever suits, as long as he is with his mother."

"That is sticky, my love; the boy is already declared _Infans Romanus_..."

"Then name Cesare as the father and be done with it—she will take her "nephew" to court and go on to some happiness, at last," Vannozza snapped at him.

"Vannozza, please calm yourself, I will work it all out before she walks down the aisle, hmm?"

"I will leave you both to it, then; I must gather a proper retinue together and take them with me when I go..."

"Oh, thank you, Cesare, I don't know why your sister left here with none of her court—when will you leave, then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh—do you think that you can get them together so quickly?"

"I do, father—I must." He looked again at his mother. "You will have ready for me that which we spoke earlier about?"

"Yes, Cesare."

He nodded at her.

"I appreciate the haste you make my son, but your sister shall be at least a year to her wedding; we must honor the mourning period, at least as close to its completion as possible, hmm?"

"At least, indeed," he looked again at his mother. "I'm off then." Cesare left them.

"So, my love, tell me more..."

"Not here—let us retire to your apartment, Rodrigo..." Vannozza said as she led her excited paramour away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, at an hour later than he desired but still in time to arrive at Nepi's castle gates before sundown, Cesare set out for his sister with two hundred courtiers, six hundred soldiers and the man who was to be Lucrezia's trusted new head coachman. He bade his happy parents farewell amidst their most loving regards to be given to their daughter and dispatched Micheletto to San Marino to captain the new army until his own arrival. He left Rome then, with a heart full of happiness for his sister, sadness for himself, and his passion for her, ever unbridled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hour was drawing late; Lucrezia had spent most of the day in her office counseling with Don di Tosoni over a particularly difficult case that she was to hear the following day; when she was confidant that her understanding was complete she gave the Don a happy smile.

"I thank you Don di Tosoni, you cannot know how much your counsel is appreciated. I would ask you to supper, but I know that you desire to get home to your beautiful family and I have kept you long enough," she said as they both rose from her desk; seated in a corner Cardinal Bembo rose up, as well.

"Well, you fed me a most delectable dinner, my Lady, and my wife will most surely appreciate that—I am none too pleasant, I'm afraid, when I am starving."

"I would never choose to send a man home to his wife in such condition," they both chuckled as he took her hand to his and kissed the back of it chastely.

"My Lady, it is an honor to work with you; your skills at negotiation are most natural and more than admirable; you have been a quick study and a just administrator—the people know that when they come to you dispensation will be fair and timely—you are a success."

"I am your protege, Don di Tosoni—your patronage alone is the reason for my success, sir," she curtsied at him.

"Ah, you flatter me much too much, my Lady—never stop!" he joked her then let loose a mirthfully conspiratorial little laugh. "Good night, to you then and give a kiss to your precious little boy from my wife and I both, yes? She so enjoyed her visit with the two of you last Sunday."

"And we enjoyed her—we must do it again soon."

"I will tell her. Until tomorrow then," he bowed at her. "Good night, Cardinal."

"Good night, Don di Tosoni."

The moment came then that Bembo waited most patiently for every time they were together—the one that found him alone with Lucrezia.

"Cardinal, will you stay for supper, then?"

"Of course I will, must you even ask?" he smiled at her.

"There you are, at it again..." she scolded him lightly.

"What?" he feigned innocence.

"That smile, Cardinal—must I give up on you and ban you from this castle?"

"Oh no, I would not have that. Is this better, then?" he frowned at her most comically but could not hold it as her laughter greeted his ears.

"Rogue."

"Maybe, but I do so love when that shield about you, that invisible cloak that you wear for protection and the means to hide your truest self from prying eyes, my Lady, comes down, revealing your true self to me...you are a woman of great passion, Lucrezia Borgia, and I would replace that cloak with my loving arms if only you would let me." His voice was as full of sympathy—and his own challenge.

"Then I must replace it with something that is not so easy to penetrate, it seems—a suit of armor, perhaps, Cardinal Bembo?" she joked him.

"I would penetrate that, as well, my Lady..." he said wickedly.

"Cardinal, you promised to be my friend..." her joking manner dissipated into one of uneasiness.

"I am your friend..." he approached her slowly.

"You will stop this or be banned from coming to this castle ever again, I mean it."

"Strong words, my Lady..." he took Lucrezia into his embrace, "yet so hollow..."

"Cardinal Bembo..." she beseeched him softly, succumbing most definitely to his charm and the feel of his body against her own, "please stop this..."

"Pietro..." he murmured at her.

"Have you no honor about yourself?" The question came out as a whisper.

"I have been a good boy...you should reward me..." he whispered back at her, through the tilt of his head and his imminent kiss.

"My Lady! My Lady! Oh..." Pietra, excited beyond measure stopped in her tracks at the sight of the pair, and her cheeks flushed immediately red from the embarrassment and discomfort of her discovery; she turned away abruptly as the spell and their embrace upon each other was broken.

"Pietra..." Lucrezia began awkwardly.

"My Lady, your brother approaches; he has come from Rome just this moment, and..."

"And here I am, dear sister," he said as he stood next to the flustered woman with a scowl upon his face.

Pietra gave a fearful curtsey at Cesare but said not another word as she left the room in great haste.

"Cesare? What..." her smile at him was immediate even through her own embarrassment and shock.

"I have news of your next betrothal, sister. Good news," he pronounced angrily as he glared at the cardinal.

"Cesare, this is Cardinal Pietro Bembo—surely you know that he was sent here by Our Holy Father?"

"I did not know," he stated as if it was an accusation against her; Lucrezia bristled visibly at his tone.

"He has been my counsel, along with the former governor, and has been of great assistance during my time here, brother."

"I can see that," he leveled at her with a mix of condescension, light reproach and sarcasm that completely unnerved her.

"Your Excellence, I am at your service," Bembo approached him humbly then, and gave him a bow.

"Really?" Cesare's tone was more than indignant; he cast his angry eyes back upon his sister. "I have brought a small but proper retinue with me, Lucrezia, that you must come and greet; and your mother sends that which you asked for in one of your earlier letters—do you remember?"

"I do, brother."

"And then we must talk. Send your little friend away now, I have not much time, for another campaign awaits me," he concluded tersely. Lucrezia was insulted and hurt by his words and both emotions registered upon her face.

"Cesare, I do not appreciate your tone or manner," she said finally.

"Duly noted, sister," he replied coldly. "May we get on with the matters at hand now?"

Lucrezia braced herself as she realized that her brother would not be removed just yet from his anger and turned to the cardinal. "Thank you, Cardinal Bembo for your assistance and your company today. You must excuse me now and I will see you tomorrow morning at the town hall."

"Yes...good night, my Lady." Bembo gave her a respectful nod—and his smile.

"The pleasure was all mine, Your Excellence," he smiled at Cesare as he walked past him and out of the room.

Lucrezia looked at her brother and saw that he was in a quiet rage; she was none too happy herself and brushed past him without another word to go and welcome her courtiers to their new home.

It was more than an hour later that Lucrezia had finally, with Pietra and Maria's help, seen to everyone's accommodations; she would manage a meeting with everyone in the morning before she went to town and excused herself to go and conference with her brother. She found him in Giovanni's nursery, playing happily with his nephew as Miracella sat nervously by.

"He remembers me," Cesare said happily over his nephew as his sister walked into the room; he kissed Giovanni on the forehead then rose from the boy's crib to greet her. His countenance was jarring to her, as the scowl he'd last visited upon her was back in effect and in direct conflict the happy voice that had issued forth from him only seconds earlier.

"Miracella, I shall come check on him again later. Excuse us now, for I have business with my brother."

"Yes, my Lady." Miracella watched the angry pair leave the room, let out a sigh of relief and breathed her first easy breath since His Excellence had arrived.

"Will you take a room tonight or will you go as soon as you are done with me, brother?" she asked him coolly as she led him to a corridor and then stopped.

Cesare yanked her angrily by the arm and turned her to face him. "Do not talk to me like I am some stranger, Lucrezia! As if I'm some lodger at one of mother's inns!" he hissed at her.

"Stop this, now, Cesare...you've brought a household of new eyes to pry into my life, please be cognizant of that," she reminded him coldly.

"Take me to your room," he grunted at her as he released her and angrily pushed her away from him.

When they were at last behind a closed and private door Lucrezia let her own anger rip.

"Why have you done this, brother? Brought all of these people here along with your tidings of bad news? I told mother I would support a proper retinue, but when I was ready—"

"You need other people here, Lucrezia; a house abuzz with life and other concerns so that the town is not set aflame by the rumours of those that have nothing better to do than discuss your lonely condition."

"So, she told you about Tomas, the reason I need to replace him?" she asked as she paced the floor.

"Of course she did. And he is a dead man—tonight."

"And she did not tell you about Cardinal Bembo?"

"No, she did not."

"Is he a dead man, as well?"

"Should he be? Is he bread and water to sate you or have you found yourself a banquet feast, sister?"

"He is neither, brother."

"It did not look that way to me..." he shot back at her.

She stopped pacing and turned to face her brother. "Then your eyes condemn me with their ignorance."

Cesare snorted a disbelieving little guffaw at her and rolled his eyes hard in his head.

"He is enamored of me, yes; I find him pleasing; but this evening was the first that I allowed myself to be swayed by him and I know him not as you suspect."

"But you want to—know him—do you not?" he accused her as he stepped closer to her.

"What has gotten into you, brother? Did we not talk about this very thing? Have I ever come at you in such a condition? And you've had far more lovers than I will ever dare to, so what is this? This anger that has us at each others throats when all I want to do is to feel your arms about me and mine about you?"

"Is that what you want?" he asked her roughly.

"Yes."

He took her into his arms just as roughly. "This is what you want?"

"Yes!"

He took her face into his hands then and his eyes bored into her own, full of fury and torment. "You have been so sure that I would break your heart, and first, but it is you, sis, that breaks mine so magnificently..." he put his forehead to hers. "This _condition_ I am in—is ever my heartbreak—for I must give you up always—to everyone!"

"Cesare..." Lucrezia tried to wrest his hands from her face but could not budge them.

"Argh! No! You will hear me, sister; to husbands; to suitors; to lovers, I must ever give you over to—to a life spent without you more than even in your remote company—and here I find you, moving on without me even as I bring news of the next man who will have you—when all I would wish for is that they would all be me!"

"Cesare, please..."

"And your next husband—I even like him! How could I not? He is honest; he is a man, Lucrezia—a man who could truly make you forget me; the type of man I prayed that father and I would find, one that we could entrust not only you, but your _children_ to..." Lucrezia broke away from him.

"She told you..." she gasped as she backed away from him.

"Is it mine?"

Lucrezia broke down into tears then and fell to her knees upon the floor.

"Is it mine!"

"I don't know!" Her voice was full of anguish. "I told you about Alfonso; how he was when he was in his cups—I had him, Cesare, the night before you left for Forli—the night before you returned and he attacked you...the timing of it all...it's just too close for me to know with any assurance, one way or the other..." she sobbed, her face buried in her hands, the lovely apricot skirt of her gown billowing about her as she sank further to sitting dejectedly on the floor.

"You must tell father—and your husband-to-be..."

"What?" she looked up at him aghast.

"Father knows nothing at all, but Alfonso—"

"Alfonso? Alfonso who?"

"d'Este of Ferrara. He only suspects—I had to put the hypothetical question to him, Lucrezia, I had to know. The man desires to bring your children to court, in any way that is possible—even if they have to be declared openly as not being your actual children; he doesn't care as long you have them with you and he would follow any advice and help that our father would render in that matter."

"It is all too much, brother...your anger, this news...I have questions of my own," she said as she brought her tears and her hiccup-infused sobs under control.

"About him?"

"No, about you—and myself."

"What?" Cesare gave his sister a wary look.

"These rumours that swirl about us on the tongues of my servants—I have heard them in full."

"And?"

"And I have read the transcript of the inquest."

"What of it?"

"Is that why father sent me away? Because of Alfonso and what transpired before his accident? Before his accident, Cesare, did you plan to have him murdered?"

Cesare's jaw dropped open and he let out out a sigh, as if he'd just felt the first stab of a knife to his heart.

"I see," she looked sadly away from him.

"Lucrezia..."

She looked up at him again. "You must tell me the truth, Cesare. If we don't have anything else between us we must have that."

Cesare took a chair and brought over near his sister; he took one of her hands into his own and gave it an apologetic squeeze. "Yes," he answered her simply.

"Why brother?"

"Why? Because he was weak! He was unable to protect you, Lucrezia! Unwilling and unworthy! I sat right beside him during my negotiations with King Ferdinand, over your marriage, and not once did he speak up for you or for Giovanni, Lucrezia...not once! He had no ambition; no sense of himself at all; a fearful boy at play in a man's world doing dutifully as he was told—by his uncle; his cousins—you! Content to sit passively by and let the world happen to him as it would. We do not live in that kind of a world, Lucrezia, you know that. He would have never been the husband in your relationship. Had he never married you he still would have found himself in jeopardy for he had no ambition at all—a death sentence for certain within his murderous family." Cesare slipped from the chair and onto his knees as he pulled her up on her own to face him eye-to-eye.

"Alfonso d'Este may have his faults, Lucrezia, but he's a man, with a mind of his own; he is not swayed by popular opinion or by anyone else's but his own and he has assured me that Giovanni and any other child, as yet unborn, would both be welcomed in his court—he would not see you separated from your children; he is not only willing but able to give me such assurance."

"And these faults you speak of? What are they?"

"Minor, compared to what he would offer you. He is more than a good prospect for you, Lucrezia."

"A good prospect for you, brother—and for father," she accused him.

"He will leave you to your bed in peace, Lucrezia, and would not force his affections on you. But he would appease himself otherwise, for he likes his whores."

"Wonderful. Another loveless marriage where I must now appoint a medic to my household staff so that he can verify if it is safe to give my husband a kiss hello when he returns home each day," she slumped back down to the floor; Cesare sat and faced her.

"I cannot ignore that he is a kind man, Lucrezia; a strong man; with one small vice he developed after the death of his dear wife. But his castle is as something from a dream—I know, I've been there; the city is a wonder, awash in art and artists—and life—something you've missed greatly here in Nepi and in Rome, as well. And he wants to give that all to you. Give him a chance—he is truly fond of you."

"He does not even know me, Cesare..."

"He has set eyes upon you before, Lucrezia—he was almost considered by father for contention of your hand at the same time as Alfonso—he saw you at the Vatican during that period when he was there on other business with Our Holy Father."

"Is that so..." she asked disgustedly.

"I know what it looks like to you, my love, but I have talked to the man and learned much of him for myself—he is a good man, at heart—a better man than me. He will treat you as an equal; he will provide you with safety. I would have you marry him, even though I hate the prospect for myself."

"You? _You_ would have me marry him?" she grunted her disgust at him. "You truly have usurped Our Holy Father, Cesare—you would order me to marry this man?"

"I would if I could—instead, I can only beg you, sis...he can give you what I cannot and I have to be honest not only with you, but with myself about that. I was sure that I was truly committed to that truth until I saw you tonight with the cardinal—I'm sorry, I just...I've never seen you like that before, desiring another man in such a way—it hurt me, Lucrezia...on top of everything else it was just more than I could bear..."

"But you had seen me with Alfonso..."

"That was not the case with what my eyes saw tonight; Alfonso was no man and you never reacted to him as one; not even that horrible night that you had to perform for the King—it was not Alfonso you were making love to—it was me—tell me that it was not..." he dared her.

It was true, it was her brother she had been reaching for, and found, in her mind even though her body could not. She nodded her confirmation at him.

"Yes, it was you, always you. Cesare?"

"Yes?"

"You were going to murder my husband, weren't you?"

"Yes," he answered her simply and honestly. "Is that a thing you could ever forgive me for?"

"Yes."

"How is that possible?" he asked her in true disbelief, so afraid that her answer would have been otherwise.

"Because you did not do it, my love," she said softly as she put a hand to his cheek. "The opportunity was there, but you did not do it; he would be alive today had he not attacked you. I don't believe you would have ever gone through with it—you are many things, my love, but your concern and self-sacrifice for my happiness has been a constant in my life.

"You may feel all you like about this Alfonso d'Este, I will sum him up for myself; Cardinal Bembo would indeed have been bread and water, my love, but what I want..." she said as she took her hair down, "...whenever the opportunity should present itself, as it has now..." she pulled the bodice of her gown away to bare her breasts for him, "...is a banquet feast, Cesare...and I will not be denied." She put her hand to his neck and arched her back as she drew him toward her; he kissed her neck tenderly and then cupped her creamy mounds in his hands and began to devour her.


	22. Weakness

"I've missed you, sis..."

"And I you, my love..."

"I have carried this burden in my heart since the night it all happened; I told myself that father and I had to find you the best husband possible and that I would have to let you go...I would have to let you go because I was truly not worth your love and affection..." he began to sob into her chest.

"Stop, Cesare, and never feel that way again..." she tried to calm him.

"I will lose you, Lucrezia; I will lose your heart to him, I know it; I don't want a promise—there's no assurance you can give me that will banish my fear—the only thing in this life that I do fear, Lucrezia—losing your love."

"Cesare, look at me..." she implored him softly. "Look at me, now..."

Cesare gave the top of each breast a tender kiss, then covered them back up with the bodice of her gown as he tried to collect himself and obey her command. "I saw you with him—the cardinal—and I knew my fear was not an irrational thing—to see your desire for another—I cannot bear that...but it is no excuse for my cruel behavior tonight..." he said as he looked at her at last.

"My love, you only expressed that which I have never had the courage to express myself; I've seen with my own eyes not only your desire for other women, but you, in their arms, being pleasured—lost in so much pleasure, Cesare, and abandon; do you think I was not jealous? Do you think that it was easy to hide my hurt behind smiles and words said in jest? Or that it was easy to still my tongue and say nothing at all? What did we say, my love? No matter what and no matter whom, remember? And what did you say to me? You are a Borgia—you are stronger than this—remember, Cesare?"

"I remember, sis, but I have one weakness, my love, and it is you...do you truly forgive me? For all of it?"

"Oh, my darling brother—do you not know already? There is nothing that you could do that I would not forgive—for you are my weakness, as well. Come now, would you not like to rest after your long ride?"

Cesare gave her an awkward look as he composed himself, stood up then held his hand out to help her up from the floor. "I would like a bath...and then to possess you properly..." he hugged her tightly to himself and gave a kiss to her forehead.

"Are you sure that's all you want, brother?" she asked him suspiciously as he released her.

"What?"

"Are you sure that it is only a bath that will delay you coming to my bed?"

"What do you mean, sis...speak plainly..."

"You will not wander off to find Tomas and run him through, will you?"

"And what if I did—he deserves worse..." Cesare grunted his disdain for the man at her.

"Cesare, when you leave this castle he should be alive—there should be no implication that either you or I were involved in his death; I have not been here long, but I have been a success so far, in spite of his slanderous words and negative influence; you do not need any further scandal attached to your name, either. Leave him here for me to dismiss properly, in front of the rest of the house; I will banish him from this castle and away from Nepi; then maybe, as he makes his way, without a horse and drunkenly on foot, he'll lose his footing—and his life—after he's slipped down the slope of a craggy ravine on the road away..." she suggested softly.

"You will stand beside me as I chastise him, putting the fear of God into the rest of them from the steely glare of your greatly displeased countenance alone; and when his body is found—if his body is found—they can gossip about his fate and suspect who they like, without proof but with the sure conviction that any such continued behavior will surely yield the same unfortunate fate."

Cesare let out a little grunt of fascination at her. "Given this some thought, have you, sis?" He lowered his lips to the delicate curve of her neck and kissed it.

"I have," she whispered as she yielded to him in a swoon, lost in the feel of his lips upon her.

"And when on earth did you find the time to concoct this plan..." he murmured against her.

"As I welcomed my retinue and suffered his hateful gaze upon me..."

"Ah—my sister, the truest embodiment of grace under fire..."

"You know well that I excel at thinking on my feet, brother."

"That you do, sister," Cesare traveled his kisses to the other side of her neck. "What else do you do well...on your feet?"

"Oh, I have many talents now, in that respect, brother—thanks to you..."

"You must refresh my memory..."

"First I must show you properly to your room, then fetch someone to draw your bath, and now, brother, or we shall never leave this room..."

"Who wants to?" he whispered before his lips found hers again.


	23. A Bit Of Unpleasantness

The next morning, long before the sun rose, Lucrezia and Cesare had stealthily parted ways. She saw to Giovanni and had her breakfast in her room, which has been her well-established custom. She next had a very brief meeting with her staff and new courtiers to let them know that there would be a proper meeting before dinner that night, and then left the castle to hear her case at Town Hall, where Don di Tosoni and Cardinal Bembo awaited her.

Cesare enjoyed some time with Giovanni, as well, and then spent the rest of the day surveying the castle and generally making everyone uncomfortable with his troubling and angry presence. The whole of the morning his angry scowl was visited upon all except the two hundred cavaliers and his own soldiers, with whom he spent the rest of the morning instructing at sword practice and discussing maneuvers for the ensuing campaign in Pesaro.

All of the courtiers were indeed abuzz with hushed questions and intrigued speculation at Cesare's continued presence, as well as that of the rather dashing new coachman, Dante Pileggi; but none were more affected than the original twenty-five staff members who had accompanied Lucrezia, and specifically, Tomas Gambino, who secretly suspected that Maria had indeed made good on her threat and reported him to the Lady Lucrezia.

In the whole of his time in Nepi Gambino's vocal and drunken outrages against the family had never ceased; even Ersilio, who had never been more than his own immediate superior, had taken him aside one night after dragging his besotted arse out of the tavern and into the street.

"Are you daft, man? Do you have a death wish?" he'd hissed at him through clenched teeth. "Forget Lady Lucrezia—you let word get back to her father, the Pope—even the hint of a word—of your asinine rantings and ravings and you'll find yourself in a very special cell in the dungeon of Castel Sant'Angelo, wishing to God in heaven it was just the rack you were shackled to, man; if you hate your job so much shut your fucking yap and don't open it again unless it's to tender your resignation from your post."

Ersilio had him hemmed against a wall holding him by the neck with one hand, his other clenched in a tight fist barely resisting the urge to pummel the man within an inch of his life.

"I need this job, you fuck!" Gambino had raged at him.

"Then act like it, man! And from now on confine your drink and your ill-will to the four walls of your room—because if your foul mouth and temper should happen to cost me my job..." Ersilio had thrown him to the ground, "I'll happily run you through myself! Get out of here!"

That had been only two weeks prior to the arrival of the bastard Borgia bitch's bastard brother. Gambino hated the lot of them, especially their hypocrisy; the Borgia bitch was not in mourning at all—she was carrying on openly with the handsome cardinal, at least, as openly as she dared; and her bastard brother—what a mockery he had made of his cleric's collar, the murdering Spanish menace; and the Pope, that big Jew-loving, whore-mongering, Spanish bag of wind—defiling the Papal throne and all of Rome with his very existence.

Yes, he hated them all, and it festered within him and grown like a cancer that was consuming him; he knew that it would kill him, but Gambino was helpless to still his tongue against them; if he was going to die anyway then he would have to remain true to himself and go out with his denouncement of them all on his dying breath. So the bastard brother was in town—so what. Gambino determined within himself that he would not run and he would not hide—and he would not shut up, no matter how spineless the rest of the household was, for he was only voicing opinions they all felt but were too chickenshit to admit to themselves. The citizens of Nepi had turned a blind eye to the bitch, but Gambino knew that, had he been still in Rome, he might have drummed-up a little revolution by that time, for all of Rome hated the Borgia's. Yes, Rome—that was where he needed to get back to and get back to it he would.

After Lady Lucrezia's brief meeting that morning he had availed himself of Donatella's offer to meet her in her room for a little romp.

"Back to Rome? Are you serious?" Donatella scoffed at him as she lay beside him, already in a bad temper at his less than enthusiastic and quick performance.

"Of course I am. I hate this town; I hate this job—I hate being on the Borgia dole," he said in an angry huff as he got up to dress.

"You're over-reacting, Tomas; so he's here—so what? He only came to bring the rest of the court, calm yourself..."

"And a new coachman—he's here to replace someone, you dizzy cunt, can't you see that?"

"Language, you sot," she shot back indignantly.

"Language, yourself. I'm leaving this hell-hole this very instant." Gambino barely had his breeches tied up as he did just that and left Donatella's room; outside of her door there was a surprise waiting for him.

"About time you got back to work—Tomas, is it?"

Gambino sneered at the fake duke before him. "You know very well what my name is. And I don't work for any of you anymore, as of this very instant," he said boldly to Cesare as he tried to pass him.

"You've not been dismissed by Lady Lucrezia and, as such, you will report to the job you are being paid to do here, _sir_." Cesare drew his sword and further barred the man's way. "And you will address me properly."

"Or what?" Gambino practically spat at Cesare. Just then they could both hear the approaching footsteps down the marbled floor of, what looked to Gambino, to be at least two dozen marching soldiers.

"Or these fine men will escort you to your quarters and guard you until the Lady returns to deal with your most abominable work ethic—or rather, the lack thereof. There is a choice to be made here—to your work—or your confinement. Which is it to be?"

Gambino gave Cesare a contemptuous once-over. "To my work, _Your Excellence_."

Cesare gave the man an amused smirk and re-sheathed his sword, then turned to his soldiers. "Take him to his quarters and post yourselves—half of you outside of his door, the other half outside of his window." He turned back to the angry man.

"You liar! You said I had a choice!"

"I said there was a choice—I did not say the choice was yours. You can thank your foul and disrespectful demeanor for the one that has been made," Cesare told him dismissively as he turned to leave. "Take him away," he ordered his men.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia managed to wrap up her day in time to see to her staff and courtiers at the time she had appointed earlier that morning; she had a few moments only to dismiss her amorous cardinal and speak to Cesare. She got out of her carriage and met the cardinal as he dismounted from his horse.

"Cardinal Bembo, I don't mean to be rude; as always your assistance today was most appreciated but I must bid you good evening now, for I must see to business with my court," she gave an apologetic smile up at him.

"I hope there's not trouble afoot, my Lady..." he gave her a concerned look in return.

"Nothing that cannot be handled with fair and honest communication, dear Cardinal."

"Very well, then—until tomorrow," he gave her a little bow as he took her hand and kissed the back of it.

"Until tomorrow." Much to Lucrezia's relief the cardinal took his leave without further fuss. She went inside and met Cesare in her office and locked the door behind her.

"My love..." she said softly as she rushed into his embrace.

"Sis..." he murmured after his lips released hers. "Good evening..."

"Good evening, to you."

"How did it go with your case today?"

"Well...I've no time for details at the moment—and you? How was your day?"

"Gambino had sense enough to know that he was in trouble—he tried to leave this afternoon..."

"Of course, you stopped him?"

"Of course. Your court awaits in the great hall for you as we speak."

"Good. How is my Giovanni? Did you get to spend some time with him, brother?"

"I did—this morning for a bit after you left and just now, not ten minutes ago. He is fine and Miracella is ever on the job, sis."

"Good. Well—shall we?"

"Yes. Now remember, I shall take my leave immediately after your meeting..."

"And return alone and lie in wait for him to flee, just up the main road..."

"And then he will be mine."

"Do be careful, Cesare..." she said worriedly.

"Oh, that I will; I shall report to you and then say goodbye properly before I head onward to Pesaro."

"Alright then—I shall make short work of this..." Lucrezia said then as she headed for the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thank you one and all for your kind indulgence this evening. To our new arrivals, welcome again; I shall be sending a courier to Rome tomorrow with the requests for supplies and the comforts you find yourself without—thank you for your quick responses by way of the notes you left in my office today."

Lucrezia stood before them all at the front of the hall on a little makeshift podium; as she looked at the sea of faces she noted that most were quite amiable, despite the heavy presence of soldiers at the back of the hall, meant to further terrorize Tomas Gambino and any others who were so inclined to be unnerved by them; and despite the menacing glare of her brother, who stood silently beside her.

"I do have a staffing change to announce and a bit of unpleasantness to address. First, to my coachmen: I am appointing and would like to introduce your new Head Coachman, Dante Pileggio, who will replace Ersilio Varni. Ersilio, please be advised that this change is not a result of any failing on your behalf, whatsoever, and is not meant in any manner to impugn your dedicated service, sir; it is merely necessary to make at this time," she addressed the man directly.

"Thank you, my Lady, for your gracious assurance and the opportunity to remain in your employ."

"You are most welcomed, Ersilio. Please also understand that this change in your position does not translate to a demotion in your pay, sir, for your service has been impeccable and most appreciated."

All of it was a surprise to Ersilio, for he was sure the new man was a replacement for Tomas; but the bit about his pay was a surprise to everyone and a small ripple of amazement and admiration went through the room in a hush of whispers and very light applause.

_Good move, sis; excellent way to instill loyalty in a man, leaving his pocket intact when he expects otherwise and worse_ , Cesare smiled inside himself at her, never once breaking his stern glare at the room before him.

"And now for the unpleasantness. I will have you all know that I am not one prone to act on gossip or false witness; I know for a fact and firsthand that there are some here who are not happy at all in my employ; to the extent that, and based on well-substantiated grounds, I would ask you, Tomas Gambino, to tender your resignation to me this evening and leave my employ, this keep, and Nepi, tomorrow morning. I will have cook prepare your last meal and then after your repast will leave here on foot with the sunrise, for I would not ever endeavor to send anyone on the treacherous road away from here in the dark of night. You will receive your severance pay, a packed meal and two canteens of water."

"You Borgia Bastard Bitch!" he raged at her as he stepped forward. The court broke out in a scandalized uproar.

"Take care, Gambino..." Cesare warned him; he gave a nod to several soldiers who were immediately upon the livid man and took him in arms.

"I could have been gone already had not your bastard brother detained me!"

Lucrezia said nothing.

"And on what grounds do you commit this travesty?" he demanded.

Lucrezia stood taller as she leveled a less than genteel look directly into his eyes. "The night we arrived here, sir, I was coming down to make myself a pot of tea and I overheard you: _"I heard that she had a terrible quarrel with His Holiness and he banished her here as a punishment..."_ Were those not your exact words, sir?" she asked him coldly.

"I said no such thing!"

Standing in the audience the other staff members who had heard him utter those exact words couldn't believe that Tomas thought he had a leg to stand on, and at being a coward to boot; others, who had contributed their gossip to the conversation felt immediate guilt and fear at knowing that the Lady had been on to them all from the very first. Miracella was not present, but Pietra, was the only one of that group, in the room at that moment who was clearly without any reason to feel fear over her footing with her Lady; though she felt relief for herself she did not take comfort in knowing that many of her friends could face the same fate as Tomas.

"Really, sir? Your gall is amazing, for there are those in this room who heard exactly those word issue forth from your mouth. But this is not a trial. Your false and slanderous words were hurtful, and I cannot have one that feels such as you do in my employ. I had hoped that it would not come to this, but feeling as you do you should have tendered your resignation long before now. It is neither here nor there now, Mister Gambino. You are dismissed."

Cesare nodded to his soldiers to take the man back to his quarters.

"You fucking Spanish cunt!" he yelled as the soldiers dragged him away, kicking and drooling his venom from his mouth, spittle flying.

"Halt!" Cesare rushed down from the podium as the soldiers held Gambino fast and cold-cocked him, sending him to the floor in near-unconsciousness. "Get him out of my sight!" Cesare wheeled around in a fury and looked wildly about the room as he tried to reign in his blood lust; he pulled himself together and looked up at his sister.

"Sister, I must leave you now, for you know what campaign awaits me next," Cesare announced then.

"Yes, Your Excellence—thank you for bringing my retinue and your kind assistance. I wish for the safe travel of you and your soldiers and success in your next endeavor. Go with God, brother."

Cesare gave her a bow and marched out of the room followed next by his soldiers. Lucrezia turned her attention back to her court.

"If there is anyone in this room who desires not to be here, please make yourself known to me at the end of this meeting so that arrangements can be made for you to leave my court; the sorrow cast upon this court over the death of my husband is enough; I will not tolerate any further discomfort or rancor here—not for any of you or for myself. Thank you for time and indulgence."

None of the other staff or courtiers remained behind to seek further audience with her—except for Pietra, who approached her with a concerned look.

"My Lady, are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

"No, Pietra, thank you; I am just tired—it has been a long day and I must go see to my son, now. Thank you dear, please go and try to find some pleasure in the rest of your own evening, yes?"

"Yes, thank you, my Lady—call on me if you need anything, anything at all..."

Lucrezia gave her an appreciative nod and then left her for Giovanni.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gambino paced his room like an angry caged animal; his roommate, Antonio, was surely already where he wanted to be—at the tavern in town; he figured the lot of them had slunk off right after the meeting like the dutiful, trained dogs that they were, with their tails tucked between their legs where their balls should have been; they were all probably laughing at him that very moment, full of strong ale and sorry complacency. Well, they could all have each other, he thought disgustedly to himself, the Borgia-ass-kissing lot of them.

At some point during his pacing and silent ranting and raving he heard the sound of footsteps marching away; he dared to open his door and look outside of it only the find the hallway empty and his door unguarded; it was all that he needed to cement his plan to leave that very night for he was not afraid of the dark nor the road that led away from Nepi. Gambino gathered his scant belongings contained in his leather rucksack, slipped out of the castle, off the grounds and away into the night.

As he tightened his cloak about himself against the cold air Gambino thanked God that at it was at least a night without rain, but the fog was dense and made it that much more important for him to pay attention to his every step along the road. About two hours in to his journey his anger began to abate a bit and instead of seeing Lucrezia's beautiful, cold face in his mind's eye he began to think really about where he would go; his jaw was still smarting from the punch the bastard brother had inflicted upon him even though his pride had been wounded more to have been called out as a coward and handled so injuriously before the whole court. He vowed to himself that the pair of them would pay dearly for what they'd done to him, if it was the last thing on earth he ever accomplished.

His anger and hate heated his blood, as well as the brandy in his flask, and helped to keep him warm but already he was growing weary; he was, however, determined to make it a good bit down the road and not stop to rest until he had the protection of the light of the sun. As he trudged onward the fog began to play tricks on his eyes as he saw shadows and shapes looming about in it, seeing things that could not possibly be before him; presently he heard the actual sound of the hooves of a galloping horse.

"Who goes there? A ride for a weary traveler? Who goes there?" he called out.

"Who goes there, indeed..." came the familiar voice as a horse slowed and revealed it's rider to him.

"You!" Gambino eyes grew wide in surprise and then squinted in anger.

"Ah...no big, bold words from you now? How you disappoint me, Gambino," Cesare said as he advanced slowly upon the man. "Spanish cunt? Borgia Bitch? You must know that death alone is too good for you—especially the one you will suffer this night..." Cesare said calmly. "It would be my truest wish to whip you within an inch of your sorry life and then flay you while you still draw breath; I would cut out your vile, slanderous tongue and your eyes, as well; and for good measure I would cut off your limbs and then set all of your bloody pieces afire..." he said as he produced a flask from inside of his cloak and began to slowly uncork it. "But alas, I can lay no actual hand on you..." he doused the man with the contents of the flask, which smelled of the same brandy Gambino had been partaking of from his own. "Yes, it does have a nice warming effect, does it not?" Cesare emptied the entire flask upon him. "But you are a lucky bastard, Gambino, for the only pleasure I can take is the image of your body tumbling down this steep ravine and of you—lying bloody and all of your bones broken—dead at the bottom of it..."

Gambino had been too shocked and mesmerized by Cesare's heinous words to issue any of his own; he realized only as he lost his footing that he had been moving, away from the advancing horse, backing steadily to his death; he screamed out as he tumbled over and soon his scream ended abruptly. Cesare dared not dismount or even get close enough on the edge to peer over it on his horse; he had picked the exact spot in the light of day and knew that it was a crag the man would not survive falling into. He steered his horse carefully away and headed back to the castle to see his sister, as he had promised earlier to do, to give his report and say his proper goodbye.


	24. Absolution

Lucrezia sat upon her bed trying to read and could not concentrate on a single word upon the page before her; the hour was growing late and she was beside herself with worry over where her brother was, how he fared and how he would get back into the castle unseen. She had only just gotten Giovanni settled down to sleep not even a half hour before; under normal circumstances she would have already been in her bed, but her complete anxiety prevented her from yielding to her fatigue or even feeling it. She snuffed out all of the candles and stoked the fire in the fireplace, then paced the room in the golden glow of the dancing flames. Suddenly there was a knock on her door; without asking who was there she ran to it and yanked it open to reveal a tall man, wearing a monk's simple brown robes, a black mask and her brother's familiar little smirk upon his face; Lucrezia whisked him through her door.

"Are you certain you weren't seen, Cesare?" Lucrezia asked her brother once he was inside of her room.

"Do not fear, sis, I am as a puff of smoke in the fog...Argh!" he let out a defiant cry of victory.

"Quiet, brother, do you want the whole castle to hear you?"

"There is no one about, sis, and besides, I came through a secret passage—calm yourself..." he smiled at her as he took her into his embrace.

"A secret passage? How in the world—" she began in confusion.

"What is a castle without secret passages? And what do you think I did all day, sis, aside from play part-time playmate to Giovanni and Tomas Gambino?" he chuckled. Lucrezia continued to look her astonishment at him. "I've seen the plans for this place—when father endeavored to begin renovations here, sis—I spent part of my day confirming which passages were still in good use, that's all."

"So, it is done?"

"It is done; I caught him unaware and backed him right down a steep cliff and into a ravine; by the time he's found, sis, if ever, he'll be bits and pieces of bone scattered about by the woodland animals."

"Good," she said in great relief.

"We have other things to discuss, my love, before I go..."

"Such as?"

"You must tell father that you are with child, Lucrezia; before the prospect of the Duke of Ferrara mother and I had discussed this and determined that the revelation would earn your trip back to Rome and to a convent nearby, to secret yourself and have your baby..."

"But why a convent, Cesare? The world will assume the child is Alfonso's, as well he could could be..."

"True, sis, but father still has to present you as a virgin, remember, to your next suitor..."

Lucrezia broke out of her brother's embrace and began to pace the floor again, wringing her hands as she went. "Oh, it is all such a mess, Cesare..." she said dejectedly.

"Not so much, now, sis—that is why you must meet Alfonso d'Este and right away—he harbors no ill-will toward Giovanni and he asks only that you tell him the truth about the child in your womb."

"What truth, brother? That he could possibly be yours?" She shot him an angry glance as she continued to pace the floor.

"Of course not, Lucrezia—do not be difficult, nor angry—he only desires that you tell him the truth of your condition, regardless of what the world may have to be told; I told you before that he seeks the best possible solution for your happiness and will enjoin our father to help him do so. Realistically, we are looking to marry you by the end of your period of mourning, but with the child coming other preparations must be made and you will need to be in Rome for that, can't you see?"

Lucrezia turned and sighed heavily at him.

"Come, sis—come to me..." he held his hand out to her; she walked slowly back into his waiting arms and rested her head upon his chest when she reached him.

"We don't have much time and I do not know when I will see you next; you're sending a courier back to the Basilica tomorrow; include your letter to father and tell him what he needs to know, sis, he will surely arrange a meeting with the Duke; then plans can be made for a true life to be had by you, at last—a happy life that includes your children in it, yes?" He took her chin in hand and looked her steadfastly in her eyes. "Yes?" he murmured at her. "Please do say yes, Lucrezia..."

"Cesare..."

Cesare only hugged her tighter to himself.

"Do you really trust this man to his word, Cesare?"

"I do, sis. Be assured that he means you well, even if your feelings for him are not reciprocated; he would still offer you the safety of his court—and his favor. I would be lying to you if I told you that such an arrangement would not make me entirely unhappy, for I would still have your heart and I would make it my priority to come to Ferrara often and reclaim it."

"Cesare?"

"Yes, my love?"

"May I say it? For surely I am the only one who can..."

"Say what, sis?"

"That you are quite possibly...almost assuredly completely deranged," she smiled up at him.

"Maybe..." he smiled down at her, "but most definitely when it comes to you, my love—you will forgive me for it, will you not?"

"I will, my love, you know that I will. But I will have to hear it from the Duke's own lips and even then I may not believe his words to be true, Cesare. Why can't I just stay here and receive you in peace when circumstances would avail you to me? That is a life I could be more than happy with..."

"It would be idyllic, my love, but we both know that could only ever be a dream; reality dictates that, at the very least, I must entrust your safety to another..."

"And politics, brother, the truest reality that dictates my life..." she said bitterly into his chest.

Cesare grunted his frustration at her then. "Please, let us not fight, sis, not now...not now..." he took decisive hold of her then and kissed her deeply. "We only have until before dawn, my love, let us not waste time with bitter words that would keep us apart..." he lifted her up then and carried her to her bed and laid her gently upon it. "No more words, sis; let our lips partake of other more pleasurable endeavors, hmm?" he said softly against her neck.

Lucrezia, laying beneath him in a swoon, eager for their bodies to become one—happily and hungrily—acquiesced.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More than a month had passed since Tomas Gambino had departed from Nepi. In that time Cesare had achieved the anticipated success in taking Pesaro and was administering to its people with their full favor, with his sights set next on Rimini, Lucrezia had learned from her mother. Lucrezia's own governorship continued to be one that the people of Nepi fully embraced and her court had fallen into a more harmonious state. While her staff had subsequently yielded none that sought to cease their employ with her, there were some that still wondered about Gambino and what had become of him, in particular, his former bed mate, Donatella.

When Donatella received a letter from a cousin in Rome that she had continued to stay in touch with it came with no confirmation that the man had been seen again there. In addition to her cousin she and Tomas had shared many mutual friends in Rome and if he had made it back she would have had some indication of it. She voiced her concern to Maria one evening when they found themselves alone in the kitchen plucking hens for the next day's meal.

"Just two more and then I'm off to bed, Donatella...thanks for staying behind to give a hand, eh?" Maria smiled at her. "I see the new coachman's been making eyes at you, girl—why haven't you had some of that?" Maria ribbed her gently with her elbow.

"He can look at me all he likes, I don't trust him as far as I can throw him," Donatella declared very definitively.

"What?" asked Maria, more than surprised; Donatella had never, in all the years that she had known her, been one to turn down the advances of a handsome man, and that Dante was a fine piece of work, indeed.

"He came from the employ of the Lady's mother, you know; she doesn't trust us at all, our Lady, at least none more than Miracella and that little kiss-ass, Pietra," Donatella harrumphed.

"Well, can you blame her, after Tomas? We're all lucky to still have jobs, no thanks to him," Maria scoffed at her.

"Maybe. He's not been heard from, you know; my cousin and acquaintances in Rome have seen neither hide nor hair of him and I know it was back to Rome he was planning to go," Donatella said with a voice full of suspicion.

"Hey, keep plucking, there...still fancy him, do you? How long had you two been messing about?"

"Off and on for three years; we might have been married if he could have stayed out of the taverns and off the bottle long enough to sober-up and stay that way. Either way, I had feelings for him, I'll readily tell anyone, but I may never forgive him for being such a complete ass."

"At least you know that he was, girl, I'll give you that much. For his sake I hope that he wised-up and made the decision to stay far away from Rome—you can bet His Holiness caught wind of his shenanigans from the son—he would be a dead man in Rome and you know it. I'm sure he's made his way elsewhere and has either forgotten you with another woman or at the bottom of a bottle—knowing him, both."

"Well, Maria, thank you so much for your kind regard, you old witch." Donatella had been wrapped-up in her thoughts and had stopped at her task again.

"Mind yourself, girl—and keep plucking, I'd like to get to bed—tonight."

"I tell you he was headed for Rome, Maria."

"You're really worried about the little sot, aren't you? Well, I'm telling you—Tomas likely just went on somewhere else, the wisest decision he's ever made in his life, I'll hazard. Let it go, girl—and keep plucking..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some two weeks later, a merchant had been on his way up the road to Nepi with his fresh stock of grouse when his dog discovered the remains of a badly decomposed body; he had let his dog off the chain to romp a bit and when the animal came back it had the bone of a human arm in his mouth; led by his dog he went to investigate and found the corpse of a man, lying half-in, half-out, of a stream at the bottom of a ravine not far off from the main road. He was not too surprised, for it wasn't the first time such an event had occurred. He looked about for a sign of anything that might be useful to identify the unfortunate soul and found only a badly dented tin flask covered in what was left of a badly weathered leather pouch; he fished the corpse out of the stream enough to see if anything was in the pockets and found nothing. That the corpse was stripped of anything useful, including any coin, was also not an unusual occurrence in such a situation, either; when the hunter was satisfied that he could find nothing to benefit himself or any possible acquaintances of the deceased he went back to his horse and cart, loaded his dog into it, and proceeded to make his way up to Nepi.

"Don di Tosoni, we have have one more to hear, do we not?" Lucrezia asked him as she began to collect her things together. She'd found it difficult contain her desire for the day to be done for she had been summoned to Rome by her father to meet the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso d'Este; she would be leaving the next morning and had much to see to before she took her leave.

"Yes, my Lady, a merchant that we do business with often wishes to advise us of a sad discovery he made on his journey here."

"Yes, kind sir, please step forward," she smiled at the man as she motioned him before the dais where she, di Tosoni and Cardinal Bembo sat. "Your name, sir?"

"Ferdinand Battaglia, my Lady; I hunt fowl and trade here in Nepi once a month."

"I see. And you found something here, sir? Something unfortunate you say?"

"A body, my Lady, in a stream at the bottom of Via Amerina."

"Oh my." Lucrezia let out a genuine gasp of surprise.

"I found nothing on the body except this, my Lady..." Battaglia pulled the flask out of a bag and showed it to the three of them.

"Lay it on the table, sir, we will need to call the police and a medic to go and retrieve the body for investigation," di Tosoni advised him.

"I'm leaving after this meeting—I stay for a day, you see, spend the night and then make my way home the following morning—I always like to get down to the main road before sundown..." he explained to them.

"Of course, sir..."

"I would have come yesterday, but I had to make my sales..." Battaglia said awkwardly.

"Of course, sir, we certainly understand," Lucrezia reassured him.

"I'll be more than happy to direct the police to where I found the body, of course."

"I shall handle that, my Lady—I know you have preparations to make," di Tosoni offered.

"Thank you, Don di Tosoni, I greatly appreciate that."

"Very well, I will appraise you of the findings, should we have any before your departure; do have a pleasant trip if I do not see you again before you go, my Lady."

"Thank you, my friend."

"I shall accompany Don Di Tosoni, Lady Lucrezia, and give absolution over the poor soul; may I call on you later this afternoon to report our preliminary findings?"

"Of course, Cardinal Bembo, I would appreciate that."

"Then until later, my Lady," the cardinal kissed the back of her hand then escorted her to her carriage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening Cardinal Bembo and Don do Tosoni both came to call on Lucrezia.

"May we retire to your office, my Lady?" the cardinal asked her delicately.

"Of course..." she said with a worried frown as she noted their sad and somber demeanor; she led them from the main hall and away from Pietra, who had let them in; Maria passed by on her way to the kitchen.

"It's rather late for them to be about, just coming in and all—what's that all about?" Maria asked Pietra.

"I have no Godly idea..." Pietra replied, equally dumbfounded.

"My lady, we have very sad news for you..." di Tosoni began sadly after Lucrezia closed the door on them in her office.

"What? What is it, dear Don di Tosoni?"

"The body found by the merchant—were are certain it is that of your former employee, Tomas Gambino..."

"What? Oh, my...Tomas? How—"

"The body was very badly decomposed, my Lady; he had been stripped of all of his valuables; but there was a ladies gold locket sewn into a pocket in his breeches, with a lock of dark hair and a little note, signed by one named 'Donatella'-whomever it was that took his other things surely missed it; and the tin flask in the leather pouch that you saw today. I know that you have a maid here by that name—we'd like to show these items to her and see if she can identify them."

"Certainly—I shall go and fetch her..." Lucrezia left the two men and found Pietra and Maria in the kitchen.

"My Lady? Is something wrong?" Maria asked her when Lucrezia appeared before them.

"Has Donatella retired for the evening?"

"She has..."

"Would one of you go and fetch her, please, and have her come to my office? Don di Tosoni and Cardinal Bembo would like to speak with her."

"I'll go." Maria left them.

"What is it, my Lady?" Pietra asked her then.

"I shall wait to tell you when I know something for certain, Pietra," Lucrezia told her and the left for her office.

"My lady? Is there something you require of me?" asked Donatella, who appeared to them dressed still in her nightgown with a cloak covering her for the sake of modesty.

"Donatella, you know Don di Tosoni and Cardinal Bembo—gentlemen, Donatella del Vecchio." The men bowed their heads at her.

"Yes—how can I help you?"

"Signorina, you knew Tomas Gambino?" the Don asked her.

"I did—what of him? Is there some trouble?" she asked them with evident and true concern.

"Signorina del Vecchio, can you identify these items?" Cardinal Bembo brought her over to Lucrezia's desk and showed her the flask and the locket laid out on a square of black velvet cloth; Donatella went first to the locket and opened it.

"This was mine...this is my hair...Tomas took this from me before he left, to remember me by...he had me conceal it—a little pocket I made, inside of his breeches that I sewed shut," she muttered to herself as she thought back to a morning, long ago in Rome, that he had lovingly clipped a lock of her hair, placed it in the locket and confiscated it as his own. "What has happened to him?" she asked them both desperately when she turned back to face them.

"I am afraid he suffered a most unfortunate accident, Signorina—apparently he fell to his death on the road away from Nepi."

"No!"

"He was known to be...well, he was well-known at the taverns, was he not?" the cardinal managed.

"He was a drunkard, you can say it," she responded angrily.

"Was he intoxicated, do you know, when he left Lady Borgia's employ?"

"No, he had not been drinking that night..."

"That night? Did not the Lady release him to his own devices on the morning following his dismissal before the court?"

"No, he left the same night; when the soldiers at his door left to away with His Excellence, Cesare Borgia, he came to my door to tell me goodbye—he left that night."

Lucrezia only looked her distress at them all but said nothing.

"Was he inebriated?" asked the Don.

"He was not; he had been sober for the meeting with Lady Lucrezia and he was sober when he knocked on my door. As a matter of fact, he was so angered that he almost left without coming to see me at all—he was almost at the road when his anger abated enough for him to get control of himself and come back to tell me goodbye—he told me that himself. He was not drunk when he left here, sir."

"But he had this with him?" di Tosoni held up the flask.

"He did, and yes, it was full—of brandy. But he was sober when he left me," she angrily maintained.

"That may be so, Signorina del Vecchio, but this flask was found sealed tight and almost empty; it is safe to say that, between drink and the heavy fog the settles over road at night, he most likely found himself too close to the edge of road and fell to his death," the cardinal said then with genuine sorrow for her in his voice.

"Will you come to town and make a formal report of identification to the police, Signorina del Vecchio?" di Tosoni asked her then, "in the morning—nine o'clock?"

"Of course I will."

"Thank you, Signorina del Vecchio, and I am truly sorry about the loss of your friend," the Don told her.

"As am I, Donatella..." Lucrezia made to go to her but Donatella shot her an especially angry look as she backed away from her; without another word to anyone she left the room.

"She is aggrieved, my Lady, do not take offense at her," the cardinal counseled her.

"I take no offense at all, dear Cardinal, even though it is clear that she blames me."

"You told the man to leave at sunrise, did you not? That was my understanding of the matter from Cardinal Bembo, here," the Don interjected passionately.

"Yes, I did."

"It is not your fault, then, that the man was such a fool—or so unsavory, hence the need for his dismissal; do not trouble yourself, my Lady, there is no possible blame to lay at your feet."

"Thank you, Don di Tosoni, you are most kind."

"Shall we go now, Cardinal?"

"That depends—my Lady, would you like for me to go and speak with Signorina del Vecchio and offer my services to her?"

"If you think it may give her comfort you are certainly welcomed, Cardinal."

"Then I shall take my leave, good people. My Lady, happy travels and do enjoy your time in Rome with your family. I look forward to your return."

"Thank you, again, Don di Tosoni, for everything."

With that di Tosoni gave her a bow and left them.

Cardinal Bembo left her next to see to Donatella and Lucrezia took a seat at her desk; it was unfortunate that Donatella was so hurt, and of course she was blamed for the man's unfortunate outcome, but she didn't care; the man had been a threat that needed to be put down, like the rabid cur that he was, plain and simple.

She had other things to concentrate on, namely the interview she was to take with the Duke of Ferrara within the next three days; she was anxious and more than dreading it. All she wanted was Cesare, if she only saw him but once a year, or once every five—or even never again—it did not matter, for her heart would soar even at the memory of him in the times of their absence from each other. She did not want to be bothered with a husband at all if that husband could not be Cesare, and that was God's honest truth. As a matter of fact, Lucrezia often wished she had a sister, or that the sisters she did have were acknowledged by her father and could be offered up for his political aspirations in her stead. As she sat lost in her impossible daydreams Cardinal Bembo came back into the office.

"Cardinal Bembo—that was a quick affair..." she said as she looked up at him, startled out of her thoughts.

"It was no affair at all, my Lady—the woman categorically refused my ministration," he said with an amused smile.

"That surprises me not, Cardinal. Well then, we should say goodnight."

"Should we?"

"Cardinal..." she began with a tired sigh.

" _Pietro_..." he came to her, took her hand and raised her up out of her seat.

"Cardinal Bembo, I am tired; I leave first thing in the morning—"

"And I shall miss you, Lucrezia..." he said softly as he drew her closer to him and nuzzled her neck.

"Cardinal—enough. My heart is not with you, I must be frank about that; and I leave tomorrow to make arrangements for a marriage where my heart will find no anchor, either. I am flattered by your attentions, but you would do well to direct them toward one who would reciprocate them, for that one is not me, I am compelled to say this to you."

"Lucrezia, my heart breaks for you at your unhappiness—can I offer you no comfort? Truly, I am feeling most useless tonight."

"That, you are not, Cardinal; I truly value your friendship and this shoulder you have been so gracious to provide me all of this time, but I do not endeavor to heap false hopes upon you..."

"You have not, Lucrezia, and your honesty has been appreciated. Again I say, if I could replace that shield around your heart with my loving arms, I would—and maybe someday you will let me; until then you must know that I will never give up; I will be here when you return and I hope to see you happier, I truly wish that for you, Lucrezia; I will pray for it."

"So, you truly are my friend..." She gave him a sad, weak little smile.

"Please tell me that you did not doubt it..."

"I will tell you that I did."

The cardinal let out an incredulous little chuckle; he could have been hurt by her remark but found that he truly was not. "My Lady, I find it impossible not to forgive you..." he smiled down at her.

Lucrezia put her palm to his cheek and gazed intently into his eyes. "Thank you for that...and please know that I shall never doubt it again, _Pietro_."


	25. Undone

Lucrezia was so filled with joy at the prospect of returning to Rome, even briefly, that she was too excited to eat breakfast the next morning before she left; she saw to Giovanni's needs and insisted that Miracella have her morning meal amidst her and Pietra's protests that Lucrezia should not go without a meal herself.

"My Lady, you must eat something..." Pietra begged her as Miracella left Giovanni's nursery reluctantly.

"No, my stomach is in knots already...please just pack enough water and a loaf of bread for me, Pietra, it is really all that I'll be able to manage, but do pack something nice for Miracella."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, my Lady?"

"I need you here, Pietra, to keep and eye on things..." Lucrezia said delicately.

"You mean Donatella..."

"Yes; I understand her sadness and discontent, but I will not go through another episode as distasteful as the one I experienced with Tomas; I shall keep my eye on her and give her a chance to get over her upset but if she does not and continues to hold me in contempt she will have to seek employment elsewhere."

"I understand, my Lady."

"I do not seek to place you in an untenable situation, Pietra; I am not asking you to be a spy, only a presence, while I am gone. I trust that Maria holds the rest of the staff under her capable and authoritative sway, but she is also a friend of Donatella and will cover for her; I am hoping that with you here Donatella will curb her worst sentiments and come back to herself more as her grief abates—I must give her that opportunity, whether or not she is aware of it, or even appreciates it."

"You are most fair, my Lady; I know what they say about me but I can handle them, for I sleep well at night knowing that you are such a kind employer and appreciate that I can please you without doing harm or sabotage to others, or without compromise to myself."

"Thank you, Pietra, it is my honor to hear you say such words," Lucrezia gave the girl a warm and genuine hug. "There are things I cannot divulge to you at the moment, but it is my wish, before your service is done with me, to secure suitable husbands for you and Miracella, both. I've had my eye on some fine gentlemen in town that I would endeavor to make your acquaintance to when I return, for I'm afraid your employment with me shall end much sooner than I expected. You would like to stay here in Nepi under such a circumstance, would you not?"

"Oh, my Lady! I most certainly would! Thank you for your kind consideration!" the girl said excitedly.

"I'm not sure about Miracella—her heart appears to still be bound to Rome, but I shall put the same prospect to her and see how she feels."

"I hope she says yes, my Lady, this is a most lovely town."

"It is—pray on it as I will, yes, Pietra?"

"I will, my Lady. I'm off to pack the three of you a basket now," Pietra smiled happily at her before she took her leave.

Lucrezia's smile at Pietra faded as soon as the door closed behind her; she went to Giovanni, who was awake and content in his crib and then sat heavily down in the chair next to it; as happy as she was to go home she still wished that she did not have to face the prospect of another husband; she knew that she was bound already to say yes to the man—her father and her brother had negotiated it and sealed the deal. What really was the point in meeting him at all? And who was this man, really? Could she truly be expected to believe all of his heady promises? Whether they came from Cesare's mouth or his own—where was the rub? Surely, there had to be one.

And then there was the other matter that made her heart heavy and her head ache—could she possibly be carrying her own brother's child? Could she live with such a secret if it turned out to be true? There surely had to be a special place in hell for them, both, for all that they had done—and all that they yet might dare to do—and there was no one on earth that she could unburden herself to, not even an unknown priest in a confessional. Lucrezia determined within herself that she would not succumb to another outburst of tears, for she had spent most of her night doing that, already; she got up and went to a window and opened it, then took a deep breath of the cool morning air before she closed it back. She went next to Giovanni and lifted him gently from his crib.

"Oh, my little darling..." she spoke sweetly yet so sadly to him, "Mama will get through this moment and this day; I will see your grand-mama and papa and shall keep my tongue and my temper; I shall reign in my truest heartaches and meet this Duke, charm him, lie to him, if I must, to secure a future for you and your little brother or sister, yes? For neither of you asked to be brought into this world; and for my sins I will pay, my love, but not you—never you...that is my promise to you both..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By seven that morning Lucrezia had bid her court adieu and was on the road home to Rome. Pietra noted that her lady's joy from earlier that morning had turned to the same melancholy she'd been overcome by upon her arrival to Nepi and her heart went out to her—the woman truly did not want to marry again; it was more than evident that her joy at returning home was over-shadowed by the advent of her next sure betrothal. Miracella, on the other hand, had been positively giddy. Pietra was sure that had everything to do with the head coachman, Dante Pileggio, who had settled his attention recently upon her and away from the caustic Signorina del Vecchio. Even though he seemed like a bit of a ladies man Miracella was the nicer girl and he looked like he knew how to show a woman a good time—and Miracella had long been in need of a good time; Pietra was happy for her. As the carriage and the fifty cavaliers that flanked it disappeared from sight of the castle gates Pietra went back inside to help clear away breakfast.

"Ah, there she is—the lady's favorite, left behind to keep watch on us all," Donatella sneered at her from her seat at the dining table.

"Donatella, mind yourself..." Maria warned her.

"No, Maria, let her be herself and mourn her man as she will," Pietra told her, more than unfazed at the woman's venom directed at her.

"So, you don't deny it then," Donatella continued.

"Enough, woman, or you'll be next with walking papers from the Lady," Ersilio grunted at her after he finished his cup of tea and rose irritatedly from the table.

"Of course you have no problem with any of this, Ersilio—all it takes is money with the lot of you—and the Spanish bastard bitch's favor—tell me, does the Lady's asshole taste as sweet as her smile looks? Surely, you would know..."

"I've work to do," he hissed at her as he slammed his cup down on the table. "I suggest you get to yours, if you know what's good for you."

"Really? And what would be good for me should I choose not to be a good little lapdog at my Lady's feet? Eh? A trip down a craggy cliff in the foggy dead of night? Like my Tomas?" she slurred at him; Lavinia looked askance at her; the only others left at the table by then were Cristoforo, who silently decided that it was a good time to join his brother, Vicenzo, out in the stables, and Tiberio, who followed closely behind him out of the kitchen to go chop some firewood.

"I've had it to here with your rantings and accusations, woman—it's as if Tomas has come back to haunt us by possessing your very soul," Ersilio told her in great disgust.

"And what if he has? I welcome him and am honored to receive him..." Donatella threw her arms open wide, then hugged herself; through closed eyes she began to rock herself in a gentle sway.

"You speak the words of an insane person, " Lavinia spoke up then, unsettled by her friend's on-going spiral into dangerous discontent; she took the woman's cup and sniffed it, then screwed-up her face in certain distaste. "And you're in your cups? So early in the morning—you have been possessed..."

Donatella's eyes shot open then, and were full of anger and despair. "Yes! I'm possessed! By my love, I am possessed!"

Pietra said not another word to any of them as she gathered a washboard and a bucket and left to go do the washing.

"Some spy you are, eh? Come back, spy!" Donatella rose on drunken unsteady legs and called after Pietra.

"Enough, Donatella! Lavinia, finish those dishes up for me please, I'll be back shortly...I've got to get her ready for her appointment this morning—come on, you..." Maria went to her and took her by her arm gently.

"Yes, ma'am..." Lavinia gave her a little curtsey and took Maria's dish cloth.

"No! I don't want to go to bed—I want my Tomas!" Donatella wailed as she tried to sit sit back down. "This was his chair, you know...his favorite seat at this table...where he used to sit next to me..." she said as if in a trance.

"Stop it, Donatella! And give it up, already—Tomas did not love you—he hated you as much as he hated the Borgia's; and the Jews...and the Moors—anyone not Roman—and his own sorry life..."

"Ersilio, no..." Maria hissed at him.

"She needs to hear it, Maria—he hated you for being a Jew," Ersilio erupted at her. "He doesn't deserve your tears, woman, and certainly not your defense," the man railed unmercifully at her.

"I am no Jew! He loved me! What do you know, Ersilio, you were no friend of his!" she roared at him.

"Maybe not, but I heard his condemnation of you and often..."

"He was drunk!" Donatella made to lunge and swing at him but Maria held her back.

"No, Donatella, he wasn't always drunk; but he was always conflicted over you, _del Vecchio_..."

"I am a good Roman! My family has been here for centuries!" she shrieked at him.

"Yes, after they were expelled from Jerusalem!"

"How dare you!"

"I care not, Donatella, but he did!"

"No! He loved me!" She broke down into more wretched tears.

"He loved you but he despised you more, Donatella; that man was full of hate and prejudice—why do you think he never married you?"

"Ersilio, that's enough from you now—go to work..." Maria yelled at him as the woman sobbed into her stout chest. "As a matter of fact, you go and identify his body, for this girl is simply in no condition to do so now...yes? YES?"

"Yes, Maria, I'll go," Ersilio said finally.

"Damn right, you will," she pronounced at him; she turned her attention back to her drunken friend. "Here now, that's quite enough, Donatella—let's get you to your room now and sleep it off," Maria coaxed her as she led the distraught woman away to her quarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lucrezia arrived at Castel Sant'Angelo she went directly to her mother's apartment.

"Lucrezia, my love! Giovanni! My loves!" Vannozza exclaimed happily as she approached them where they stood at her door, with her arms open wide.

"Mother..."

"Oh, I've missed you so! My darling, beautiful girl," Vannozza smothered them both with kisses. "Your father is conducting Vatican business now, of course, and you shall see him at dinner tonight—how are you, my love? How are you feeling?"

"The nausea has started already, I'm afraid..." Lucrezia said sourly.

"Let me look at you—turn around—yes, like that—no, you're not showing yet..." Vannozza surveyed her as she cradled Giovanni in arms.

"It has only been two months or so, mother..." Lucrezia reminded her irritatedly.

"You're tired, my love, and distraught—I can see it all in your face. Try not to worry, my love, the Duke is most pleasing—you will find him to be kind and soft-spoken—but do not take it for a weakness—he is a warrior-born, like your brother, and he does not mince words."

"Joy," Lucrezia replied testily.

"Yes, you most assuredly need to take your rest, my love, for there is only ever one time when you are so uncharacteristically disagreeable, and that is during your pregnancy..."

"I am disagreeable, mother, because of the immediate future that awaits me," Lucrezia snapped at her mother.

"At least you get to meet him, Lucrezia—I made sure to see to that, ever since—"

"Yes, ever since Sforza, I know, mother. What does it matter? I'm sure the ink on the contract is as crusty as a stale loaf of bread."

"You chose Alfonso for yourself, Lucrezia, and—"

"Yes, I did—and we see how well that worked out, hmm? Father allowed that once but I am sure that with this alliance the benefit is all his; this interview tomorrow is a sham, meant to appease me, make me feel as if I have a say in my fate when we all know that I do not."

"Alright, that's enough—to my bed for a nap...now—you'll be human when you awake—at least I hope so—and then we can talk, for you are being more than impossible at the moment," Vannozza dismissed her daughter firmly. "Well, stop standing there glaring at me and go on—Giovanni is mine—go _now_ , Lucrezia," Vannozza ordered her daughter.

Lucrezia left without further argument and when she closed the door to her mother's suite she flung herself onto the bed then rolled over on her back and stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Marriage. All that marriage had ever amounted to in her life had been death: the death of her first husband—who had deserved it; the death of her second, who had not; the death of her innocence.

Marriage had meant blood: the blood of soldiers and innocent citizens; the blood of kings; blood shed at the hands of brother against brother; blood on Cesare's hands, that was same as the blood on her own. And so much blood on her hands, too: Giovanni Sforza's; King Ferdinand's; Prince Raphael's; Alfonso...Paolo...Juan.

Her tears came in a torrent then, for them all, but especially for Alfonso, whose love had been destined never to be enough for her; and sweet, gallant Paolo, who found death because she dared to love him, at all; and Juan...who had loved her once but had turned so cruel and so weak; he had been a total failure as Gonfalonier, but it was his egregious actions against little Giovanni, and therefore herself, that had sent Cesare to his rage and broken the last fragile thread of their volatile relationship and thus Juan to his death. And now there was the blood of Tomas Gambino on her hands. Where would it all end? Pondering that question she rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in her hands and cried herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although it had presented a host of complications, Rodrigo had been genuinely happy to hear that his daughter had another precious child on the way and had told her so in his letter that summoned her home. He had two interruptions that day as he went about his duties: one notifying him that his daughter had arrived; the other, in the early evening, as Cardinal Farnese finished his financial report, that the the Duke of Ferrara would be in Rome with the sunrise the next morning.

When the young cardinal realized his words were falling on deaf ears he stopped abruptly. "Your Holiness? Are you alright?"

"Oh..." Rodrigo chuckled, "forgive Us, Cardinal—thank you for your report—We are glad to hear that solvency it not at issue at the present moment. No, it has been a long day and Our daughter awaits Us."

"Very good, Your Holiness, please give her my regards?"

"We will...uh, how is your dear sister, these days? Is she a happy bride?"

"She is, Your Holiness, thank you."

Rodrigo gave a relieved smile at him.

"Will Lady Lucrezia be in Rome long enough to see Giulia? It would make my sister most happy if they could see each other, Your Holiness."

"Ah, We wish it could be so, but Lucrezia will only be here for a few days; you may, however, inform your dear sister that Lucrezia will return to Rome soon and stay until she is betrothed again."

"Giulia will be pleased to hear it, Your Holiness."

"And you, Alessandro—how do you fare these days? It has been a while since We have had a moment with you."

"I am fine, Your Holiness, thank you for asking. I am more than fine, actually—Silvia is with child, Your Holiness—I am to be a father!" the young man told him then, unable to hold back his excitement.

"Ah! Congratulations, Alessandro, that is wonderful news, indeed. Give Our kind regards to your Lady and let her know that Our blessings and best wishes are ever with the three of you, hmm?"

"I will, Your Holiness, thank you so much."

"Very good then—Our lovely families await us, then, do they not? Close your ledger books now and go on to yours; have a happy evening, Cardinal," Rodrigo smiled at him as he gave a fatherly pat upon Alessandro's shoulder.

"And you as well, Your Holiness...goodnight."

Rodrigo left the smiling man and headed off to have dinner with the two most important women in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean, she will not come out, Vannozza? I've not set eyes on my daughter for months now, and she refuses to see me?" There was great hurt registered in Rodrigo's voice as he paced the anteroom between the salon and Vannozza's suite, where his daughter had locked herself away from them.

"I have tried to get her to come out, my love, but she has locked the door and will not answer me...not even to Giovanni's cries has she responded..."

"Oh, no..." Rodrigo moaned wearily, "what now? What is it, now?"

"I don't know, but it appears to be worse than when she refused Giovanni her breast to secure his father a proper burial..."

"The Duke arrives at sun-up, this cannot be happening..." he sighed his great consternation at her.

"I know that she truly desires not to marry again, but I had no idea that it was _this_ bad, Rodrigo...she is as a soldier who's come home from war, vacant and damaged, and jumps to the ceiling at the sound of a twig breaking under foot..."

Rodrigo and Vannozza heard the crisp snap of a cloak being cast aside and the heavy clank of armor announcing bold steps coming toward them then."That's because she is a soldier indeed, weary from battle and undone...and each of us is to blame," came the stern voice of their son when he came to a halt before them.


	26. The Gamble

"Cesare! My love..." Vannozza rushed into her son's arms in tears.

"Mother," he gave her a reassuring hug as Rodrigo came and joined them. "Father."

"Cesare, your sister—" Rodrigo began woefully.

"Leave her to me—leave us," he said simply and with an adamance that was reverent and full of love, yet forceful enough that his parents found themselves unable to disobey him; they left quietly with worried looks on their faces but without another word between them; when Cesare heard the door close he went and locked it, then went to the door his sister was locked behind; he leaned close to it then rested his forehead upon it.

"Lucrezia—I know that you hear me," he said softly against it; on the other side Lucrezia went to it and did the same; finally he heard the lock tumble and then saw her tear-streaked face appear as she slowly opened the door; she stepped aside to allow his entry and then closed it behind him. "What is this, sis?" he asked her as he took her gently into his arms, "Talk to me, my love..."

Lucrezia yielded to his touch as he pushed a stray lock of her golden hair out of her eyes; she looked into his then, amazed that he was there at all and almost thought him to be a figment of her imagination. But how could that be, she wondered, for his touch and his presence sent through her whole body the familiar passion that always engulfed them when they came near each other, that felt like the heat of a thousand summer seasons rolled into one day.

"How is it that you are here, brother? And straight from the battlefield, I see..." she asked him as she caressed the gold armour plate upon his shoulder.

"I stay in contact with father, you know that; I know the Duke arrives in the morning—this? A small skirmish..." he said as he took her hand away from the cold armour and then kissed her palm. "I will take Rimini soon and rid the people there of the scourge that is the House of Malatesta. I have left my army under Micheletto's sure command, for you had to know that nothing would keep me away from seeing you upon your return to Rome."

"It is getting harder for me to forget you, Cesare, during the times when we are apart..." she said sadly as she looked down at the floor. "When I am not thinking about you I think of the blood...all of the blood...on my hands—on yours because of me..."

"And what of it, sis? I would not take back a single drop! Not of any that spilled from those that harmed you," he declared ferociously.

Lucrezia looked at him with longing and despair before she broke out of his strong grip upon her and walked silently away with her sorrowful thoughts; Cesare rushed her and took her violently back into his embrace.

"You know that I do not take kindly to you turning your back upon me, sis...what is your trouble—you must tell me..."

"I do not want this marriage, Cesare! I cannot do it! I do not want it!" She tried in vain to break free of him.

"The Duke is an honorable man, Lucrezia..." Cesare began, feeling as helpless as he sounded.

"So you say—only I will truly be able to judge that even though it matters not! It is what you and father want, always what you and father want! Let me go, Cesare..."

"You must calm yourself, sis..." he grunted as he struggled with her. "Lucrezia! Stop this!"

"All I want is you, Cesare; and I know that I cannot have you, I know that; but if I could only be left alone! I would leave here, leave Rome and escape to a happy life in a convent were it not for Giovanni and this one...this...one..." she looked down at her belly in horror.

"Lucrezia?' Cesare's tone was a warning and a question as he looked at his sister, whose mind seemed to be unraveling right before his eyes. "Lucrezia?"

"This one, who could be your very own—our very own..." Lucrezia took a deep breath and tried to collect herself; she looked into her brother's eyes and gave a little shake of her shoulder within his grasp and he reluctantly let her go.

Cesare realized that the words he had said to his parents were horrifically true as he watched his sister become quiet and withdrawn; she backed away from him and then sat down upon the edge of the bed, as if in a trance, and looked away from him. He approached her cautiously and when he was finally upon her he got down on one knee and took her soft hands, folded upon her lap, into his own.

"Lucrezia...I have harmed you— _I_...have harmed you—must I spill my own blood to make this right?" he asked her tormentedly. Lucrezia looked back upon him and found tears streaming down his face and past his trembling lips.

"Never, Cesare, must you say such a thing to me. No more blood; there must be no more blood; not on your hands, ever again, for me."

"You said before that we are bound to heartbreak, Lucrezia; I know that, whether we continue our love for one another or if we do not, it is true; it pains my heart more than I can bear, even as I dare to say it—even though I love you more than my own life, if you are ever to have one of your own I must let you go and you must do the same of me."

"I would not have to let you go if I were free not to marry."

"But you must..."

"Hmm..." she looked away from him again and stared vacantly into the space before her.

"Lucrezia..."

"Well, there is always the bargain then, is there not? That you and I made to marry this man and let the safe harbor of marriage enable our pursuit of each other, yes? I will have that, at least."

"No, Lucrezia."

Lucrezia's head whipped around to see that Cesare's tears had begun to stream anew. "What did you say to me?"

Cesare found that he could not utter the words again.

"You said 'no'? No, Cesare? No?" she asked him incredulously.

"Lucrezia, your torment is mine; there is no rest or relief from the dagger that plunges into both of our hearts at this moment unless we...unless we...release...release each other to life," he struggled to get the words out.

"To life? There is no life for me without you, Cesare, do you not know that?"

"Then you will have to try and find one, sis..." he said sadly as he rose up slowly from her.

"Cesare? Cesare..."

"I...I do not think that it will be a difficult thing to do—I am confidant that the Duke—"

"And this child in my womb, Cesare? What of him?" she cut him off angrily, for she was tired of hearing anything at all about the Duke.

"I shall love as my own, whether he is mine or not, just as I love Giovanni; but if he is mine, the world must never know it, for that is a scandal you must be spared from, and that is simply all there is to that, and you know it. Do you think that this is something I want to do? It is not..."

"Then don't do it, Cesare, do not abandon me."

"I am not abandoning you; if you are to have a life—and more importantly, your sanity—then we must release each other, sis, from this torment..."

"You think, Cesare, that you can say the word 'release' and, just like that it can happen? That I could achieve such a thing? I would not, even if it were possible; I appreciate your good intent, but if you call my sanity into question now my love, my only love, then you will surely set eyes upon a mad woman, as will the world, if take your love from me," she threatened him.

"Lucrezia, you know that is not my intent..."

"Then stop this, Cesare, and never utter those words to me again. The promise of you is the only way that I will get through this abhorrent endeavor, do you not understand that? Even if I do not have you with me in body, I must know that your heart is ever with me in spirit."

"Do you think that this is easy for me, sis? You are to be married!" he railed, as he stood towering above her. "The conflict that rages within me is more treacherous than any battle I could ever fight upon a field! I love you...tragically! I want you...always! It is a love that binds us yet tears us so viciously apart! I want your happiness but your happiness will never be a tangible thing with me in your life, and this man offers you exactly that! A Life! Safety and protection! Honor! Acceptance! Love! For you and your children, Lucrezia. I appreciate and hate him for it! And what am I to do with that? For my love for you causes this—you locked behind a door, unhappy and undone, seeking from me what I wish to give, knowing full well, that I cannot give it though it is what my heart truly desires! What else can I possibly do? What can we possibly do?"

Lucrezia rose to stand before him and said nothing as she took his face into her hands and gave his lips her first sweet, hungry kiss.

"Lucrezia? Did you not hear a word that I just said?" he gasped at her when their lips parted.

"I heard them with my whole soul, my love...now hear mine..." she said softly before she kissed him again.

"Lucrezia? In mother's bed? Cesare asked uneasily even as he was drowning in her. "And they are waiting for us..." he murmured as he gave in to her completely, and began to strip out of his armour with her help.

"I go to my doom in the morning, my love—let them wait...let the whole accursed world wait..." she whispered as she slipped away from him to lay upon the bed; she reached out her hand to him and waited for him to join her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare? Is she alright?" his worried mother asked him when he found her in his father's apartment.

"She is...better. She is refreshing herself and asked me to reassure you both that she has come back to the world of the living. She is anxious to put her arms about you, father, and looks forward to dinner tonight," Cesare informed them gruffly.

Rodrigo and Vannozza exchanged flabbergasted looks at one another.

"Will she go through with her appointment in the morning, Cesare?" Rodrigo asked exasperatedly.

Cesare took short, resolute strides toward his father, his face angry and his tone angrier. "You will do well, father, not to display your truest concern to her when you do see her, if your truest concern is not _for_ her—are you clear on this?"

"What is this?" Rodrigo grumbled indignantly, "You speak to Us for the second time today as if We are the child and you are the parent—We will not tolerate it!"

"Then act like a parent and not a child—and not a Pope," Cesare shot back at him.

Beside him Vannozza stiffened at Cesare's understandable yet loving insolence and cast her eyes to the floor before Rodrigo looked his unutterable frustration at her.

"Cesare..." Vannozza dared to put a careful hand to his arm, "is she—"

"She will see us all at dinner," he told his mother abruptly and then left them both for his own quarters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was a delicate affair that night; Rodrigo was truly pleased to see his daughter, at last, but following his son's sure command he kept his conversation with her confined to her health, and her pursuits in Nepi, which he indeed knew very well about from his reports from Cardinal Bembo; Cesare had been content to sit by silently as his parents, both chomping at the bit to discuss the Duke, did well to say nothing about him at all.

Lucrezia excused herself early to put Giovanni to bed while Cesare remained to catch his parents up on his own exploits before he and his father left Vannozza to discuss headier business. When he was done with his father he went to his sister, awaiting him again with open arms in the suite of her own apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, Holy Father," she said simply.

"But every one is assembled, Lucrezia..." Rodrigo told her exasperatedly.

"You said that I would have the opportunity to speak to the man privately; I will do it before this announcement is made to the consistory, not after," she informed them firmly.

"You could have told Us this last night, daughter..." Rodrigo found it impossible not to display his upset, to which Lucrezia was totally unaffected by.

"I endeavored to have a truly pleasant time with you last night, Holy Father, and that I did; I know that you are anxious to get on with this but the consistory has waited on me before and when I was ready they were always there, were they not?" Her sarcasm was more than Rodrigo could bear.

"We have absolutely had quite enough of this, from you and your brother both, Lucrezia—do as you will—let Us go and see him, then." Rodrigo began to walk away, headed for the room where the Duke was housed and awaiting his introduction.

"Alone, Holy Father—I will see him alone." Lucrezia's words stopped her father in his tracks.

"What, now?" he turned around and settled his angry eyes upon her.

"Why is the need for such expediency required, Rodrigo? This is only the betrothal we are announcing, they will not marry before her period of mourning is over...let our daughter have this moment alone as she requests..." Vannozza interjected.

Lucrezia said nothing as she ignored them all and walked past her father, who was stunned and taken aback by her; when he made to go after her Cesare quietly, but with a stern look, put his hand to his father's arm and stopped him; the three of them watched then as Lucrezia disappeared behind an office door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My Lady!"

The Duke and his retinue, expecting to see a guard call them forth, arose from their seats and were startled when they turned and saw Lucrezia at the door; she gave a curtsey to them all and then waited as the Duke realized that she meant to speak to him alone; he waved his retinue away from the room and then held her seat for her as she sat down.

Lucrezia moved as if she was in a daze, as if her body and mind had been separated from each other; she took him in then and noted that what her mother had said of him was true: he was roughly the same age as Cesare but had the beard of an old man; though he was not unpleasant to look at Lucrezia was not particularly moved by him. She faced him across the table feeling as blank and empty as she surely looked and cared not as she gave him a wan smile. If the Duke was disappointed by her seeming lack of enthusiasm he gave no outward sign of it.

"Lady Lucrezia, believe me when I tell you it that is my greatest honor to meet you and be in your presence, at last. I know that you have questions—at least I hope that you do, but I would be most appreciative if you would hear me out first, for I have things I must say to you and I want you to be clear about me. Will you do that?" he asked as he took his own seat.

"I will."

"Thank you, my Lady. I am a simple man; I have a family that I love dearly, just as you do your own; I have a place in society that I had no control over being born into, just as you have been; I feel a duty to others, not just to my family, that is impossible for me to ignore—and is often honored even before my duty to myself or my truest desire for myself—which has been a condition of your life, as well. I understand you, Lucrezia.

The Duke noticed Lucrezia's bland countenance began to show a flicker of interest.

"We live in a time that is fraught with discontent; greed; mayhem; ever-shifting politics that often pits brother against brother, father against son and and is responsible for the most egregious crimes of men against women; a time when the lines between good and evil blur ever so gently before our eyes and turn good intent to bad, and then bad intent to blood.

"All of this I say to tell you that I am not a man without sin; I am not a man who has not spilled blood; I am a man who has had to deal with the discontents, jealousies and plays for power within my own murderous family as well as without. I wish that you not take offense at that statement, is not a judgment upon you or your family, my Lady. I merely seek to make you understand that I recognize in you, and your experiences, my own life.

"I know all of the most salacious rumours that circulate around you and your family. I do not believe in rumours, only what I see with my own eyes. I see with my own eyes that you love the whole of your family immensely. I see that you and your brother, Cesare, share a love that is more than familial."

A guilty tear came to Lucrezia's eye.

"Again, my Lady, this is not a judgment against you, please understand. I have made a sincere friend of your brother and I honor that he considers me the same. But I realize that I am in the middle of a great conflict—and a great love. I would endeavor to have you love me thus, should it ever be possible, but should it not happen all I ask is that you be discreet; honor me as a man, as I will honor you as a woman, by keeping the truth clear between us in that and all matters; I am not a fool; and I am a jealous man, but I am not a brute. And there is something in you that makes me long to protect you, and love you, even if that passionate love goes unrequited. I would be your friend, Lucrezia; your ally; your confidant; your champion in all things; I will honor and care for you and your children the same as our own, if you would see fit to grace me with any.

"I know that you have no doubt heard about my patronage of the brothels. I am a man, Lucrezia, and I have my needs. It would not be realistic in this bargain to expect me to forego the pleasures of the flesh elsewhere if our marriage turns out to be a courtly affair only. I had a wife, as you know, and I loved her greatly and she loved me the same. Should I be so blessed to have that experience again, if our love was a thing that was truly between the two of us alone, then the brothels are an activity I would surely and happily give up.

"I have a court to offer you and your son; I offer security, not just for the comforts of the life of a genteel lady, but against the tangible—and terrible—aggressors who would seek to rob you of such comforts and your very life, as well; I offer you a city, full of culture and art—and love—that I would like to share with you. I offer you my heart and my hand even if my hand is the only thing you may ever hold dear. All I ask in return from you is always and ever the truth, for I do not wish either of us to live in an unhappy prison of lies."

Lucrezia was completely overcome by tears then and speechless.

"May I, my Lady?" Alfonso asked as he produced a clean kerchief from a pocket and held it out to her.

She managed to nod her thanks at him; when she had comported herself at last she looked sadly into his eyes to meet his compassionate ones upon her.

"Dear Alfonso, you have been frank with me and more than accommodating. Yes, I have a truth to reveal to you, as well, more than one actually. This one you already know—it is true about my brother; we have loved each other the whole of our lives even though that love only very recently became carnal. It is wrong and we both know it but we are helpless not to feel it. I cannot explain it any better than that, for it has been a mystery even to ourselves why God would curse us in such a manner on one hand, and bless us so completely with each other on another.

"I will tell you that my brother, although his desire for me had always been there between us, had never acted upon it until...until..." Lucrezia's tears came again and she struggled to get the words out through them; she took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. Alfonso waited patiently for her to continue; when Lucrezia raised her head and looked at him she found kindness still in his eyes. "Until I invited him to do so. I will not give excuses and—"

"My Lady, I would not ask for any or torment you with the desire for details that are not necessary," he said softly. "I appreciate your honesty, more than you know."

"Well, you may not appreciate this, dear Duke—I am with child, and I know not whether this child is the offspring of my late husband or my brother." Lucrezia rose from the table and walked away, unable to bear her own words. "My father does not even know of this, so please do not hold his negotiations with you against him, they were held in good faith. However, if you wish to wash your hands of me I will understand completely, kind sir; I would ask and trust that you keep my confidence and I will explain to His Holiness that..." Alfonso was out of his seat and upon her then turned her to face him.

"Lucrezia, nothing you have said thus far would make me renege on my proposal of marriage to you. If you will have me, I would still endeavor to have you." He offered the careful hint of a smile at her.

"Why? I do not understand—do you not find me the most vile woman to ever stand before you?"

"No, and I would not have you think such a thing of yourself, either. Who would I be to stand in judgment of you? Our worlds are full of treachery—even in our own families there is treachery; it is difficult to find someone to trust, is it not? Someone to love who loves your truest self and unconditionally. Who is to say, that had I a sister such as yourself, the same condition could not have befallen me, as well? It is apparent to me that you have both struggled with this love and still do—you are not the vilest people on this earth, contrary to popular opinion; neither you, your brother or your father. I could not abide this alliance if I felt otherwise, Lucrezia.

"You are Borgia; I am d'Este—we are kindred, Lucrezia, and I love you. From the first day I saw you, I loved you. And now I will have you and keep you; God has seen fit to make it so, of that I have no doubt. Let us both honor that, Lucrezia Borgia? Will you?"

"Duke, I feel as if you are much too good to be true..."

"I am not good, Lucrezia, but I assure you that my heart is true."

"I am confounded by you, I am not afraid to say it..."

"It would be most strange if your were not..." he pulled her into his embrace.

"But you make me feel at ease and I would never wish to hurt you..."

"Then do not hurt me..." he murmured at her. "As long as you remain true to yourself, my Lady—and ever confide those truths to me—we will stand a chance. Will you marry me, Lucrezia Borgia?"

"Yes, Alfonso d'Este, I will."


	27. A Careful Truth

When Lucrezia left the Duke to rejoin her family she was immediately alarmed at not finding Cesare there waiting with her anxious parents.

"Where is my brother?" She did well at keeping her confusion and dismay in check.

"He begged Us to give you his apology, for a messenger came for him—some skirmish or other that requires his quick return to the field..." Rodrigo explained sorrowfully. "Have We been successful, then? Do you not find the Duke to be an excellent match for you, daughter? Are you pleased? Please tell Us that he has found your favor..."

Lucrezia stood a little taller before them even as she turned a hard gaze away from them both and took in the full reality that her brother had truly and finally done it—he had abandoned her. She had expected that he would beat a hasty retreat when the deal was struck, but she thought that she would at least have had the opportunity to speak with him before he did so. And she so needed to talk to him.

The Duke had absolutely overwhelmed her with his kindness and seeming words of sincerity but even as the words came out of her mouth that confirmed their alliance she wondered at him, still unbelieving that such a man existed in the world. It was not lost on her that the Duke had much to gain in his own right in the bargain and, while she wanted to put her trust in him, she knew that only time would tell the true and honest tale of the man's intentions toward her.

"Lucrezia? My love, are you alright? What is it? Did things truly go well for you?" Vannozza asked her delicately and in earnest as she reached out a concerned hand to her daughter's arm.

Lucrezia came back to the moment and gave her mother's hand a reassuring pat even as she turned to fully face off with her father.

"Yes, Your Holiness, I am as pleased as is possible for me to be." Lucrezia's words were carefully measured and in her tone was the hint of bitterness and a slight reprimand.

"Oh, my love..." Rodrigo cooed at her as he opened his arms wide to receive her. "Look Vannozza, Our darling girl cries tears of happiness..." he smiled as he stroked her hair gently.

"My love..." Vannozza gave her daughter a kiss upon her free cheek and joined in the group hug but was still worried after her daughter and more than confused over her silent tears, which, unbeknownst to her and Rodrigo both,were being shed for the loss of her true love, who had abandoned her to her future without him. She collected herself presently and broke away from them both. "It is done then..." she whispered to herself as the merciless reality set in that she and Cesare had shared their last moments together the night before.

Her parents were sure that she was speaking of the Duke as their happy but ignorant smiles beamed at her.

"Alright then, Holy Father, let us make this announcement now, that will give your enemies pause as surely as your allies will rejoice; and will allow His Excellence another sure step toward the kingdom you both endeavor to secure. "

As Lucrezia walked away from them Vannozza's concern turned to true alarm and caused her brow to furrow after her daughter; for even though Rodrigo, who had been too overjoyed at his success, did not recognize Lucrezia's scathing pronouncement upon him, Vannozza had, indeed. It was perplexing to her, for while the Duke seemingly embodied her own truest hopes for her daughter's happiness it was evident that Lucrezia had not found the same full comfort in him. As she watched her daughter taking her valiant, bold steps away from them and to the chamber where the consistory waited, Vannozza wished with all of her heart that she knew the reason why.

Before she could give voice to Rodrigo of her concern he rushed away from her to catch up his daughter.

"She is most anxious, is she not?" he smiled back at her.

"Rodrigo, a word—"

"Come, Vannozza!" Rodrigo waved her excitedly along, oblivious to everything but his own pleasure and delight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your Excellence..."

"Captain—how goes it here?"

"Very well, indeed—I was not expecting you back so...soon..." Micheletto dared to venture, surprised to see Cesare come bursting through the flaps of his tent.

"Leave us..." Cesare ordered the four soldiers, who had been in discussion with his captain.

"Is it done, then?" Micheletto asked him when they were alone.

Cesare shot him an angry glare.

Micheletto only gave him a nod of confirmation.

"She had no choice, we all know this." Micheletto knew Cesare well enough to know that his hostile rebuke was not directed at him, at all.

"The Duke is an honorable man, Cesare..."

"Yes, yes—her safety is secured," he grumbled his irritation back at his friend as he began to pace the dirt floor.

"But your heart is breaking, nevertheless," came Micheletto's careful pronouncement.

Cesare stopped in his tracks and looked another angry glare at his friend. "Is it that obvious?"

"To those bold enough to look upon you with truthful eyes? Yes, Your Excellence."

"How long have you known, Micheletto?"

"How long have I known you?"

The two men shared an awkward moment of silence.

"Tell me truthfully—do you think me a degenerate?"

"Truthfully, I will tell you that I understand what it means to love someone impossibly, with the whole of your heart, and the torment that ensues because of it," Micheletto answered him simply; he stepped away from the table where he and the soldiers had been perusing a map and plotting their next battle strategies; he retrieved a bottle of wine from another small makeshift table nearby and took a healthy swig from it.

"Love..." Cesare began quietly as he approached his friend, "leads us often times to do things we may never have thought even possible of our truest selves..." he said to Micheletto's back.

Micheletto only nodded silently.

"To hate..."

Micheletto turned around and faced Cesare. "To fight..."

"To murder..."

"To forgive."

"Do you forgive me, Micheletto? Truly...for...Pascal?" Cesare cast his gaze uneasily at the floor and then resolutely back at his friend, ready to hear the worst.

Micheletto's gaze back at him was unflinching and unreadable, his face as stoic as ever. He could see Cesare steeling himself against the sure and brutal truth that awaited him. "I would not be here if I had not...Cesare."

"So, you did blame me..."

"I only ever blamed myself."

"But you loved him..."

"I did." Micheletto struggled within himself over the next words that came out of his mouth, but was unable to stop them. "I loved you more."

Cesare did not insult Micheletto by looking surprised or acting ignorant, but his shame was more than evident.

"How could you? Do all that you've done, feeling as you felt while I...I and my sister..."

"I am an assassin; a killer; a soldier; a son—a man. A man who loves. And forgives. I hope that after it is all said and done that, I too, will be forgiven. All that I have done—right or wrong—has been done out of love; for my mother; my country; your family—for you. I know you do not believe in God. I do. I leave the judgments to Him and no other. Not even myself."

Cesare took in his words yet still felt more than unworthy of his friend's sentiments; he paced the floor before him, his heart still heavy, his confusion still evident.

"I will not stand here and tell you that once I understood not how it could be that a man could desire another man as he would a woman; yet it happens every day; the heart cannot help who it loves; yet, you challenge that feeling in me, Micheletto. I can see now how such a thing can be and it surprises me only that it feels as natural as it does—I'm sure because I share such unnatural feelings for my sister—the worst sin between the two of us, I know—" Cesare stopped pacing and faced him.

"Don't, Cesare..." Micheletto took a careful step toward him. "Let us not stand here and compare sins; you said it yourself—the heart cannot help who it loves. It is more simple than any of us make it out to be. I love you; you love your sister. These are the facts. I can be satisfied with the fact that you love me though I shall never see the expression of it in the way that I would truly wish. Your understanding of me means even more than that. Were you of the opinion of Savonarola and those of his ilk I surely would have been a more successful employee of Giuliano della Rovere."

"I do love you, Micheletto; not like a brother but more than a friend and easily...it is not my intention to...to lead you on..."

"Your intentions toward me are not at question." Micheletto stepped even closer to him.

"I have done the right thing, finally, by my sister, Micheletto."

"And what is that?"

"I have finally done the thing she knew that I would—I have abandoned her."

"You have left her to live her life, yes; the love the two of you share for one another will never die. She will be hurt; angry. You are both strong. You will survive this." Micheletto dared to put a comforting hand to Cesare's shoulder.

"I lit out and away without even so much as my goodbye to her...I am a coward...I...I am not strong—I am the weakest man that I know..." Cesare tried to fight back his tears and still his trembling lips but could not; Micheletto pulled him into an embrace that Cesare allowed easily. The only other manly embrace he had ever been comfortable with had been that of his own father and Micheletto's was just as comforting and innocent enough that Cesare lost himself in it.

"We are only men, Cesare, but a weak one you are not. A broken heart needs time to grieve, does it not? What do you think that I did all of that time away from you? I can say it—I cried; I grieved; I finally came back to myself. One day I will be whole again. And so too, shall you," he said as he looked into his friend's eyes.

Cesare found that he had the impulse then to kiss his friend and Micheletto sensed it easily; his body tensed against Cesare's and then he abruptly released him.

"No—you are distraught and I would not ever have you say that I took advantage of you at such a time as this; if your lips ever touch mine, which I doubt they ever will, I would have your kiss be for me and me alone and for your desire to be true; I would rather never experience that at all than to experience it now, feeling as you do at this moment, Cesare. I am clear about how I feel—you would need to be clear, as well, yes?"

There was no rebuke or unkindness in Micheletto's voice and Cesare found himself ever more amazed at him.

"You've been riding all day—cook has prepared something today that does more than just fill hungry bellies—take some rest and then your sustenance—when you return to me I have reports for you regarding the Colonna and the Orsini—and della Rovere; and there is Faenza to discuss."

"We can discuss it all now—I need—"

"To your rest, Cesare," Micheletto told him firmly.

Cesare gave him a resigned shake of his head and then left for his own tent.


	28. Departures and Arrivals

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia? Open the door, my love," Vannozza called through her daughter's locked door. "Lucrezia?" The worry in Vannozza's voice was starting to mount and she let out a loud sigh of relief when at last the door opened.

"Mother, I am not up to the banquet tonight..." Lucrezia began tiredly as she walked listlessly back to her bedroom; she collapsed upon her bed and rolled over onto her side.

"Lucrezia, my love, please tell me what your trouble is? Please?" Vannozza begged her.

"What does any of it matter now, mother? All of the pieces are set nicely on the chessboard; the necessary plays are in motion; father and Cesare are poised for sure success..."

"We hope, my love, for no thing is ever sure until it is a thing that has been done, you know this; the outlook is good, yes, and blessedly so—for you, as well. Please tell me from what well this heart-sickness of yours truly springs? I'm begging you? Did the Duke give you pause, my love? Is there something about him you should tell me?"

"His words brought me ease, mother, as they were intended to do; I...found myself caught-up in them; I want to believe him—but as you said, no thing is ever sure until it is a thing that has been done..."

"Oh, my love, the advent of marriage is always a trying one, and arranged marriages can be almost terrifying, I know..." Vannozza began delicately.

"The advent of marriage is nowhere near as terrifying as actual marriage itself, mother," Lucrezia said disgustedly.

Vannozza got up and went to the other side of the bed to sit and face her distraught daughter. "My love, I know that you have suffered greatly; I know that you feel you have been handed quite the raw deal—"

"Truer words, mother, have never been spoken, I'm sure..." Lucrezia said then, her voice distant, her thoughts firmly settled on her brother as she continued to dwell on the fact that he had left her without even a word of goodbye.

"Oh, my darling girl...come to me?" Vannozza held her arms open to her daughter. "Come on, then..." she coaxed her; Lucrezia rose up, unable to resist the promise of the comfort of her mother's beckoning embrace. "There now, that's my beautiful darling...we shall take this one step at a time, yes? You must come to the banquet and see the Duke off; if you do not stay the whole of the evening no one can fault you—you are still in mourning, after all; you will return to Nepi and conclude your duties, disband your court and prepare for your return here before this lovely one..." Vannozza gave a light, loving pat to Lucrezia's belly, "makes himself known to the world, yes?"

A single tear dropped from the corner of Lucrezia's eye.

"And then you will be back in Rome with us, where you belong, until you are wed and your husband takes you away to the glory that is Ferrara. I've had a report of the place from Cesare—you are going to love it there, Lucrezia; _Giovanni_ will love it there, and so too, his sibling on the way...we must continue to pray for Cesare's success—between that and the safety your marriage ensures you our family stands to prosper beyond even that of your father's wildest imaginations and hopes," Vannozza concluded excitedly.

Lucrezia could stand to hear no more and was unable not to show her disdain as she disengaged herself from her mother's arms. She could not voice her truest concerns; that she wondered after the Duke and how he would truly react once her baby was born, especially if the child looked anything at all like her brother, whom the Duke claimed to be such a friend to. And what nonsense was that, anyway? They had only just met, after all.

There was so much her mother didn't know...and what if she ever found out the truth about her two children? How many different ways would it kill her soul? And her father's? Lucrezia shuddered physically at the thought of her father's reaction should the truth ever be revealed.

"My love? What is it?" Vannozza asked her as she saw her daughter tremble before her.

"I'm cold, that's all..."

"A blazing fire and a hot bath is what you need, dearest; and then two courses at most at the banquet and then back to the quiet comfort of your bed—you can do that, my love, can you not?"

_The quiet comfort of my bed_...Lucrezia harrumphed to herself. "Yes, mother, there is surely that to look forward to these next long months,"she said with a smirk upon her face.

"No, my love, the months will fly by—one of the banes of old age, I'm afraid; you will be gone again from me sooner than I would have it be so."

"You..." Lucrezia took her mother's chin into her soft hand, "are not old, mother—you are a beauty and a wonder—I do love you so..." Lucrezia said with a voice full of quiet reverence. "I do wish I had ever been more like you."

Something in the faraway look in her daughter's eyes that came back to focus fully upon her own again touched Vannozza deeply, as her heart swelled with both pride and heartbreak all at once.

"Oh, my darling?" Quiet tears began to stream down Vannozza's face then as she cried out her torment, "What on God's earth is it?"

"Nothing mother, it is just as you said, the advent of marriage, that's all; pregnancy, as well, making a mess of my emotions, please do not be alarmed. I should like that bath now, indeed, and a nice pot of hot tea,yes?"

"Yes, yes—I shall fetch it and have your bath drawn."

"Giovanni?"

"Ah, so you do remember him..." her mother teased her. "Napping at the moment under Miracella's careful watch, hmm?"

"Thank you, mother," Lucrezia managed a weak smile at her.

"Alright then, I shall be back with your tea, yes? That's my girl, get up...you will dazzle tonight, even through your understandable melancholy." Vannozza gave a kiss to each of her cheeks and then left her daughter, feeling a bit more comforted than she had been before.

When Lucrezia was alone again she fell back upon her pillows in a heap, unable to hold back her fountain of tears. "Cesare..." she called out his name in a choked, hiccup of a whisper, "Cesare..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just as Vannozza had warned, the months did indeed fly by. In the three months that Lucrezia had returned to Nepi to conclude her affairs, the trial of the Countess of Forli had begun in earnest but already to no true avail. It had not much mattered to Rodrigo for Cesare was pressing ahead without any real resistance and by year's end Faenza would fall to him; when it did Cesare would be declared officially as the Duke of the Romagna. That had been the news from her mother, at least.

She had even had several letters from the Duke of Ferrara, hinting at his wish for a visit to Nepi to see her. Lucrezia had written him back promptly yet regretfully that she did not have the necessary time left to entertain him properly, but looked forward to hosting his visit to Rome should he be able to return again before the wedding. It was true to a certain extent, but mainly there were two places on earth that had been hers and Cesare's that she wanted to remain untainted by the romantic memory of any other: Orsini Palace and Nepi Castle. She had been intrigued by the cardinal, most definitely, but after Cesare had been there with her that initial intrigue had died; she really did view him as a friend and made sure always, even in their many moments alone together, to keep the boundaries between them clear. As long as he honored those boundaries she permitted his visits; thus far, he had never given her a reason to rescind her invitation to him.

Lucrezia had done well herself to successfully honor her promise to Pietra; she had arranged a suitable betrothal between her and a handsome young merchant who had businesses in Spoleto and Nepi. Pietra's happy, albeit quickly-planned, wedding was held at the castle as Lucrezia's gift to them both and kicked-off the festival the townspeople wanted to hold to send her off with their great esteem and appreciation, as well as to welcome back the former governor to his previous post.

As to her personal plans, Lucrezia would release her court in Rome; so too, her servants, who would be given very generous severance and, for most, arrangement for the immediate employment elsewhere upon their return. She planned to retain only Dante, the head coachman, and Miracella, whom had both fallen quite undeniably in love with each other and would be released to her mother's employ upon her own departure to Ferrara.

Even with all of the preparations and planned festivities to attend to Lucrezia had managed well to stay out of the public eye, thanks mainly to Don di Tosoni, who had resumed his full duties as governor a month and a half after her return. She hadn't given an explanation as to why she had been called back to Rome by her father but the Don and his wife suspected that the dear girl was with child; while that suspicion was correct they had no idea that her father, His Holiness, Alexander Sixtus, already had another husband chosen for her; it was destined to remain that way, for Lucrezia had no intent to tell anyone anything about her true condition or her father's plans for her—the world would know soon enough.

So while she took joy in Pietra's happiness over her impending marriage, and Don di Tosoni's joy over resuming his rightful position as Governor, her many and most private moments were spent in a truer state of mourning than when she had first arrived; for at that point it was Cesare that she found impossible to shake from her every waking thought and her heart.

Cardinal Bembo spent much more time with her than Don di Tosoni and was much attuned to the new veil that had descended over her, which seemed to be woven entirely of pure despair. With her public he noticed that she was engaged and attentive, her smile always genuine; but within the safe and private confines of her castle she was a vacant hostess and more silent than he been accustomed to; even her son brought only a momentary spark of life to her eyes and when it died, as inevitably as it would, she called quickly for her nurse to take the boy away to attend lovingly to his needs.

Lucrezia was about two weeks away to her departure from Nepi when the cardinal dared to talk in earnest to her one evening. She had given her last official banquet where she had hosted the governor and some other local dignitaries and had just bid the last guest farewell. The cardinal remained behind, as usual.

"Cardinal, I do not wish to be rude, but I am very much fatigued..."

"Lucrezia, if you will not speak to me as a friend, then speak to me as a priest and tell me, please, what has caused the light in your eyes to burn out and grace mine no longer? It has been troubling me ever since your return..." His gaze upon her was serious and unsmiling, which was jarring enough to her to break her out just a bit from her melancholy.

"Oh, Cardinal...you have been so dear to me all of this time. Please do not insult my intelligence, for you surely are aware of my father's plans for me—what kind of spy would you be otherwise?"

"Even a good spy is just a player in the game, Lucrezia, not the master of it; I am not privy to all of the truest intents of His Holiness regarding you and you know it."

"That may be, but certainly you know that he plans to marry me by the end of the year."

"I do, but why are you leaving so soon?"

"Pietro, we must say goodnight," she ended the conversation firmly.

"Lucrezia..."

"That the light has died in my eyes is bad enough, Pietro; even the idea that my demeanor has diminished the smile in your own and from your face pains me more than you may ever know. It is only rest that I need now, I assure you," she said as she took his arm and walked with him out of the dining room and to the main hall.

"So, you would kick me out, then. Very well, my Lady; I will return tomorrow to see about you."

"Do not doubt, dear Cardinal, that I would like that very much." She managed a smile for him.

Pietro gave a bow of his head at her and left, more than reluctant.

When he was gone Lucrezia headed for the nursery then and entered the room quietly.

"He sleeps soundly, my Lady...all is well..." Miracella whispered at her as Lucrezia peeked in.

Lucrezia gave her an appreciative nod and exited as quietly as she had entered then headed for her own room. When she got there she was surprised to find that only the fireplace was lit and that all the other candles in the room were not. She was too weary to care; the room was warm enough to undress comfortably against the brisk chill of the March night and all she wanted to do was surrender her naked body to warmth of her heavy brocade and velvet covers and escape into sleep. As soon as her head hit the pillow she had done just that.

Sometime in the night, in the midst of a fitful and dreamless sleep, Lucrezia awoke in wide-eyed terror to a strong hand across her mouth and the the grip of a naked assailant behind her in her bed; she struggled against him in futility, her muffled screams growing ever frantic, though unheard, as she realized how horrible it was to be on the other side of someone else's murderous intent.

_I'm having a nightmare and I'm going to wake up! I must wake up!_ she screamed within herself. But the feel of the man upon her was too real—as well as the voice calling her name, which was neither a nightmare or her imagination.


	29. Going Home

"Lucrezia! Lucrezia!" the man grunted at her, "it is me...please...stop...struggling...I will remove my hand but you must promise not to scream out...nod your head if you understand me..."

Lucrezia did so fearfully; her head was too full of her own screams to identify the frantic voice issuing at her—could it be Cesare? Who else would dare such a thing with her? She tried to calm herself enough to really focus her eyes and ears at the one behind her as he turned her to face him; through her vision, blurred by tears of fright and the shifting shadows caused by the dancing firelight, she struggled momentarily to clearly see his features; the hair was long and spiraled—it felt like Cesare's hair; his body was lithe and well-muscled—it almost felt like Cesare's; the outline of the face—she wanted him so badly that the contour felt familiar as she traced it lightly.

"My Ces—" She stopped then when she did feel something familiar, at last—a smile that she knew well—and was not Cesare's.

"Your chest, Lucrezia? Oh, I've frightened you most horribly...I'm so sorry..."

"Yes, my heart has leapt out of my very chest, indeed! Cardinal Bembo! How dare you!" she screeched her disappointment at him as she scrambled out of the bed.

"Lucrezia, please..."

"I should call the guards! How the devil did you get in here?" she raged as she deftly slid out of the bed and grabbed at the sheet to cover herself. "In the name of all that is Holy...let...go...of...that...sheet!" she yanked at it angrily as Pietro shifted himself to allow her to command it fully into her possession.

"I'm so sorry..." came his plaintive apology again.

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear—what possessed you,Cardinal? What implication...what possible sign have I given you that would set this course of action by you? Are you insane? Have you lost all reason?" she railed at him.

"I can explain—" he said as he made to get out of the bed and approach her.

"Stay where you are—first: how did you get in here?" she demanded.

"There is a secret passageway—many—in this castle..."

Lucrezia knew that well from Cesare's previous use of just such a one, but had never given thought to it in any other context that did not involve him; a visible shudder passed through her at the thought that she had been vulnerable all of that time to others, whose intent could have been more malicious and deadly—thank God Tomas Gambino had never found such a passageway, for he would surely have enjoyed visiting his wrath upon her.

"Lucrezia?"

"How fortunate the intruder that did finally find his way to me was only a foolish one and not a murderous one," she leveled at him stonily.

"The passages are not well-known, my Lady—His Holiness saw fit to apprise me of them before your arrival here—"

"His Holiness," she gave a disgusted snort, "of course. For what possible purpose?"

"To ensure that they were either unbreachable or in need of guards to be posted at them. They are well hidden my Lady—one would have to not only be in the know, but possess the knowledge of the location of the mechanisms that open them."

"I see; and His Holiness armed you with this knowledge, did he..." it was an angry statement more than a question.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Then I am most thankful that I am to leave this place soon. I should still call the guards on you...why have you done this, Cardinal?" she fumed at him.

Pietro gave her a little reprimanding look. "Is it not obvious, Lucrezia?" he waited for her response and was met only by her continued and steely glare upon him. "I am madly in love with you!"

"Mad is right, sir."

"You have been so sad since your return from Rome, sadder than when you first arrived here; between that and your impending departure I was driven to my desperation and this most desperate action. You must forgive a man in love his folly."

"Must I?"

"I am begging you to do just that."

"Cardinal—"

" _Pietro_ , please?" he beseeched her.

"Very well, then—you do understand that as well as the grief I endure over the loss of the love of my life, I have been visited with the very real condition of a new betrothal? I am to be married by His Holiness at the end of my mourning period to another husband...another life. Yes, I am much sadder than when I arrived here, very definitely. But this..." she gestured a question with her hand at him, "this was your answer to my grief? I thought that you were my friend, _Pietro_ , not a common marauder who would invade a woman in the dead of night and against her will."

"Well," he began a little indignantly and very visibly hurt, "when you put it like that..."

"Yes, well, you put it like that, did you not?"

Pietro made a decisive move out of the bed and boldly approached her then in all of his naked glory. "I am not such a man and you know it..." he took her roughly into his embrace.

"Pietro!"

"I am no common marauder and you know it; foolish of me to approach you in this manner? Yes. But it is heartbreak and propriety that keeps you from giving in to your desire for me—which is a tangible thing, Lucrezia, not a figment of my imagination; I respect both of those conditions. But heartbreak fades over time, maybe not easily—healing is the one gracious blessing that time does allow us; propriety is never a barrier when two people are in love. One day—someday—the feelings I have for you will be reciprocated, of that I have no doubt. And contrary to what you see before you, I am a patient man, Lucrezia Borgia. Although I will leave you now, know that you have not seen the last of me—in such a manner," he smiled at her, took her hand and chastely kissed the back of it. "Please accept my deepest apology for frightening you."

"Your audacity is almost amusing, Pietro, but it is still more than unappreciated."

"I understand, my Lady."

"I don't think that you do. At all. I will be gone from this wretched place—and you—soon. I forgive you now only because I know that I shall never see you again and will not have to regret taking the higher road in this matter rather than give into my baser instincts to have you hauled away and whipped within an inch of your life."

"And I would enjoy being a party to your baser instincts, my Lady, if only you would do the whipping..." he gave her a most devilish smile then.

"Oh!" Lucrezia stomped her foot at him in complete consternation. "You are impossible! Be gone from my sight, Cardinal Bembo!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even though she knew it was not necessary, Lucrezia made quite an issue of obtaining the locations of all the secret passageways known to Cardinal Bembo and had guards posted at each one until her departure. It was only a matter of days, at that point, before she would be gone; Cesare had not come to her, as she had wished in the deepest recesses of her heart since her return to the castle, nor would he, ever again; she did not have to worry that he would and risk discovery of stealing in to see her; she did not have to worry that anyone would reveal them otherwise because soon the whole court would be gone and disbanded, the castle lonely and empty again. Her last days in Nepi would have been completely trouble free had it not been for the still disgruntled Donatella del Vecchio, who had spent the majority of her last days inebriated and useless, but tolerated, nonetheless.

By the time Lucrezia bid Nepi and the townspeople their farewell she was more than ready to go. She was gracious to the end even though everything in her was screaming to finally head home, even if it was for just the brief time she had left before her marriage and the next unknown venture toward the rest of her life. When the parting ceremony was finally at its end and the last cheek had been kissed farewell she looked upon them all for the last time with a mix of sadness and relief. She had made some real friendships, such as Don di Tosoni and his wife, who had visible and genuine tears cascading down her handsome face as she waved Lucrezia away; she had left a happy friend behind to her own peace and fulfillment in the body of Pietra, now Dona di Benedetti, whose hug goodbye had been strong and heartfelt; and there was Pietro Bembo, who had performed his duties professionally to the last even as his desire smoldered at her with every glance upon her.

When at last she was settled in her carriage with Giovanni and Miracella she let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Home, my little darling...we are going home," she cooed at him as she stared through her window into the distance.


	30. At Long Last

As La Bella, now Giulia Capece, was further along in her pregnancy than Lucrezia, permission had been granted for her to make one last trip away from Rome before Lucrezia herself would retire to a local convent in preparation for the arrival of her own baby. Lucrezia had been back in Rome just over a month and had remained listless and uninspired, incapable of doing much more than meeting her goal to get dressed every day. When Giulia's invitation came requesting her beloved friend to come to her castle home in Carbognano it was the first spark of light that Vannozza had seen in her daughter's eyes since even before her late husband's death. Rodrigo had been staunchly against it but had finally succumbed to Vannozza's firm order to let the girl go.

On a crisp May morning Lucrezia kissed her parents goodbye then left Castel Sant'Angelo in the company of her son, Miracella, Dante Pileggio at the reigns of her carriage, and a two hundred-soldier escort for the eight hour trip north and away from Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the marvelously appointed main hall of Carbognano Castle, Giulia Capece stood with arms wide open to greet her dearly beloved friend.

"La Bella! La Bella! Oh, what a joy it is to my heart to finally see your sweet face!" Lucrezia exclaimed as she went gently into her friend's waiting embrace and loving kiss.

"My dearest, darling girl! My heart soars along with yours!" said Giulia when their lips parted.

"Oh! I did not know that you were so far along last December—when is the blessed day?" Lucrezia asked her then as she looked upon Giulia's belly.

" _I_ did not know that I was so far along last December," Giulia smiled conspiratorially at her friend, "two or three more weeks, my love, before this one makes his debut."

"Or hers..."

"Yes," Giulia chuckled, "or hers. Come, my love, to my salon—you must rest yourself...or do you wish to retire to your suite?"

"Oh no—I weathered the trip quite well—you are so close to Nepi! Had I known—"

"No, my love, we stayed in Rome after our nuptials, for Giovanni had much business to attend to; we've only just arrived here in April. I am overjoyed that you will be here for the birth of your god-child," Giulia beamed at her.

"Oh, La Bella, I would be honored..."

Giulia gave her a little curtsey of gratitude. "Miracella, so good to see you..."

"And you, my Lady. Congratulations, my Lady, on your marriage and the precious one about to grace us soon."

"Thank you, Miracella. And Giovanni! My, what a handsome boy you are! I would hold you my love, but you would be much too heavy for me to lift, now..." she cooed at him and nuzzled his nose with her own causing him to erupt into happy giggles and the three women, as well. "Cecelia..." she called to her maid then, "please show Miracella and Giovanni to their suite and then fetch whatever sustenance or comfort they may desire."

"Yes, my Lady..."

"And Miracella..."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"My staff stays up late and are quite the jovial ones—if your Lady agrees, you may join them if you're not too tired after this one," she tickled Giovanni's little chin, "falls asleep..."

Miracella looked to Lucrezia who happily nodded her approval.

"Thank you both, thank you..." Miracella beamed at them before Cecelia led her and the baby away.

"Come, Lucrezia, we have much to talk about..." Giulia linked her arm through Lucrezia's and led her down the main hall to the South-east Tower, where the window of the salon on the second floor overlooked the lovely scenic view of the internal road that led away to the heart of the city beyond. "Have a seat, my love..." she directed her to a sumptuous crimson velvet and mahogany divan across from the hearth.

"Put your feet up, my love..." Giulia directed her as she took her own seat beside her.

"What?"

Giulia raised the hem of her Lucrezia's gown. "I could tell by your gait that your ankles are swollen—off with these, then..." Giulia removed her slippers and propped Lucrezia's feet in her lap. "Lean back, there, and relax yourself..." Giulia removed a stocking and began a lovely massage of Lucrezia's foot.

"La Bella—you would be needing this more than I—"

"Nonsense—I have not been riding in a cramped carriage for eight hours...now—how are you, my love? Really?" Giulia demanded with a compassionate smile.

"As well as can be expected, La Bella..." Lucrezia said forlornly.

"Do not be vague with me, Lucrezia—you are troubled and unhappy—everyone can see that, even through the sweetest smile on that beautiful face. You ever grieve your love and do not want this marriage, am I right?" she asked her delicately.

Lucrezia's thoughts went immediately to Cesare. "Of course you are right, my love."

"Lucrezia, I have done my own research into the matter, through friends and acquaintances—your father has done right and well by you with this man, I am assured; as well as he has done by me."

"And where is your husband, La Bella?"

"Away, always away—politics, Lucrezia, you know this. He assured me that he will be back for the birth of the baby."

"And how does he feel about the baby, La Bella?"

"Well, I will admit that a boy would bring him great joy regardless of his true parentage, but should that not be the case, well...if God sees fit to allow it I will give him the boy he so desires, my love."

Lucrezia only gave her worried silence.

"He is a fine and noble man, my Giovanni—do not worry for me, my love; he loves me and I love him, truly; my life thus far has been most happy with him—I promise you."

"Good. I will trust you, La Bella, for anything less would be a heartbreak for me, and I've had far too much of that."

"Other foot..."

Lucrezia obliged her.

"And what of your baby? When are you due?"

"September. I shall go to convent upon my return to Rome—the sisters have my accommodations ready; and then my wedding in December; I shall go to court with the Duke and when the time is right my children will come join me. I have been assured."

"The only way, I know, that you would have ever agreed."

"Yes. I keep telling myself that, La Bella," Lucrezia said sadly.

"Lucrezia..."

"You know what this alliance means for my father...for Cesare—and the Duke, for he stands to gain a lovely bit of territory in the bargain."

"They are not the only ones who benefit, my love, you—"

"Yes, a thousand times I have been reminded, La Bella, of the benefits to me; please do not say it once more for I will scream out if you do," Lucrezia admonished her as she rolled her eyes hard in her head.

Giulia stayed silent and concentrated on her friend's lovely, tired foot in her hand.

"I'm sorry...I'm—"

"My love, you do not have to explain yourself to me, nor apologize; it is terribly unfair that such a burden is to be foisted upon you, and so soon, when your heartbreak is still so fresh; let us talk of something more pleasant, then. Cesare has been a great success in Pesaro, I'm sure you've heard as much from your mother; even despite the stalemate that is the trial of the Lady of Imola—he shall take Faenza by the end of the year, I hear, and he will most likely be back for your wedding—"

Lucrezia stilled her friend's hand through another hard roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh. "No more talk of marriage or politics; of my father or my brother, my love, please?" Lucrezia implored her through a difficult smile. "I am so happy for this invitation and that I will be here when your firstborn comes into this world—please?"

"Yes, my love..." Giulia's confusion was complete but she obeyed her friend.

"Thank you for such exquisite care, La Bella—my turn now—lean back and put your feet up...that's it..." Lucrezia removed her slippers and then began to gingerly roll down her first stocking; as she began on the other she became aware suddenly of Giulia's intrigued gaze upon her and gave a smile that quickly gave way to a question. "What?"

"You've learned a thing or two since your second marriage, my love—what a lovely and tender touch you have; you will make your next husband a very happy one..." Giulia smiled knowingly at her in return and was met with the blush of Lucrezia's cheeks before she dropped her gaze bashfully and got back on task.

_If you only knew what I've learned, La Bella, and from whom_...Lucrezia thought wickedly to herself. "That remains to be seen...stretch out now...good. Now...tell me of your brother, Alessandro and his fair Silvia—I hear that they are expecting, as well? And your dear mother—how is she?"

The two women talked long into the early hours of the morning with Giulia having done well at keeping the conversation from going into any painful direction for Lucrezia; when at last Lucrezia was shown to her suite and left alone she did what she had done almost every night since her brother had abandoned her and returned to his campaign—she buried her face in her pillow and cried herself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That's it, my love...give us one last, good push!" cried out the mid-wife.

"Aaaarrrgghhh! Oh...by... all...that is Holy..." Giulia grunted and then gave out as she thrust herself back against her pillow; her body was drenched in sweat and her exhaustion was beyond that she imagined she could ever endure; her labor had been a hard seventeen hours and her mother's hand, locked in her own steely grip, was bruised and tender.

"My sweet girl—you did it, my love...you did it..." she heard her mother say over the first choked little cry of her baby.

"Oh, mama...mama..." Giulia sang out in relief.

"It's a girl! It's a girl!" came the mid-wife's joyous voice over the din of the other relieved women in the room as she cut the umbilical cord.

"Silvia—go and tell the men—get Giovanni in here," Giovanna Caetani ordered the woman then. "Lucrezia—help her back up to sit up a bit...that's a girl...look, my love—your daughter..." her mother said as she took the baby from the mid-wife and handed her to Giulia.

"Lucrezia? Is this really my own beautiful daughter? Look at this miracle..." she said then, breathlessly and instantly in love with the babe in her arms.

"She is, La Bella...as beautiful as her mother, my love..." Lucrezia gave a tender kiss to Giulia's forehead.

Silvia returned then, with Giovanni Capece, Alessandro and Angelo Farnese; Giovanni went to his wife and gave her a happy kiss.

"Giovanni, my love..."

"I told you that I would be here, yes?"

"Yes."

"She is a beauty—like her mama..." he beamed at her.

"You're not dis—"

"Hush, now," he cut her off with a loving smile, "you are both well—that's all that matters right now, my love," he told her quietly.

"Alright, my love, let's have her back and clean her up now..." Giovanna said as she took the baby gently away from Giulia.

After everyone had a chance to kiss her and hold the baby Giovanna ushered everyone out of the suite to leave the happy family to a moment alone.

"I'll be right back for you, Giulia, with a wash basin and a clean gown, my love, and then we'll get you moved to back to your room..." her mother gave a kiss to her forehead.

Assembled in the anteroom then, everyone was handed a celebratory goblet of wine by Girolama, Giulia's sister.

"Must you leave us so soon, Lucrezia? We've only had a week with you..." Girolama complained.

"Stop it now, girl—you know that she has to get back to prepare for her own little bundle on the way," her mother lightly scolded her.

"I shall miss you all, but it will ease and comfort me to know that Giulia will be blessed by your continued presence."

"And we are glad that you were with her these past three weeks, dear girl—thank you for looking after my precious one," Giovanna gave her a warm, strong embrace.

"Never thank me for loving her, mama Giovanna."

"Oh, but I do. And now, go on everyone, and take this party further away from Giovanni and our tired girls, who need rest and quiet—go on—to the salon...I shall be down shortly," Giovanna smiled as she sent the happy group away.

Two days later Lucrezia said goodbye to them all and made the journey back to Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Our dearest, darling daughter—welcome home, Lucrezia, welcome home!" Rodrigo greeted her when she arrived at her apartment later that evening.

"Holy Father..." Lucrezia smiled wanly at him as his welcoming embrace enveloped her.

"We hope your trip brought you some happiness?"

"It did, Holy Father."

"And how did you leave La Bella?" he asked as he took Giovanni out of her arms.

"Happy and well, and with a seven-pound, five-ounce bundle of beautiful joy named Laura, Holy Father."

"Ah, splendid, We are so happy to hear of it," he beamed at her. "Your mother will be here soon, she had a matter to attend to suddenly at one of her inns that has delayed her—a message—by carrier pigeon. So, how did it go? The birth..."

"It was hard on her, Holy Father—seventeen hours in labor..."

"Seventeen, you say? That poor girl...first babies, you know..." he concluded with a sorrowful shake of his head.

"Yes. But she is fine—they are both fine. And congratulations, Holy Father."

"What? What, you say? Congratulations? To Us?" he asked her, completely flustered.

"Lucrezia! My love!" It was Vannozza, who had only just arrived and overheard the bitter note in her daughter's voice; she knew well that the baby was Rodrigo's and was afraid that Lucrezia was about to tell him out of spite.

"Mother!" Lucrezia went to her mother and gave her a genuine and heartfelt hug.

"Congratulations, you say?" She gave her daughter a stern look through her smile.

"Of course—" She turned away from her mother and looked back at her father. "For arranging such a successful marriage for La Bella—her husband truly loves her. Bravo, to you."

"Oh, well...yes, of course," Rodrigo replied absently as he cuddled Giovanni.

"Lucrezia, I want to hear everything, but surely you are tired..." her mother began delicately.

"I'm fine, mother."

"Good, my love, for We have a most happy surprise for you," Rodrigo said then.

"Oh? And what is that, Holy Father?"

"At long last, dear girl, your brother is here!" he beamed at her.

Lucrezia's heart felt as if it had stopped, and with it, all of time; when it dared to beat again it was racing; pounding its disbelief at her as it drowned out sounds of all else; she saw her father's lips moving but all she heard was the rush of blood that suddenly flooded her temples and made the veins there throb; slowly she heard her father's voice increase in volume, but her own anger mixed with an almost impossible joy drowned him out still as one name reverberated inside of her head; she tried to give her own voice to it, but she failed, managing only to stand there looking agog at her father.

"My...my...brother?" she stammered at last.

"Lucrezia..."

She turned back to face the voice that came from behind her, issued from the tall one who was standing there then, beside her mother. All at once she was joyously happy yet filled with a profound and crushing disappointment; her disappointment she bravely held back, but not the heavy tears, that streamed down her cheeks and fell like little explosions upon the floor.

"Lucrezia..." he rushed over to her then and hugged her mightily.

"Gioffre—I am so very happy to see you," she wept into his chest.


	31. The Prince Is Born

While Lucrezia was in Rome enjoying her bittersweet reunion with one brother, the one in Pesaro, that her heart ached for, was about to receive a happy surprise of his own. It was several nights later that the report he had been waiting for finally came, yet so much earlier than he had dared to expect.

"Your Excellence..."

It was Micheletto who had come bursting into Cesare's tent.

"Ah, and good morning to you," he smiled at his friend, amused at his own joke as it was actually seven in the evening and dark outside.

It had become Cesare's habit to avail himself to the night, which had always been his ally and the period of the day when both his energy level and his mind were at their most heightened state of process and expression; and the time when his thoughts of Lucrezia invaded and haunted him the most. He had found it beneficial to leave the day to his Captain, his troops and the world, for his battles, thus far, had gone easy and without much resistance. It was habit to plot his strategies in the night with his Captain and his Generals, receive them again in the morning to hear their earliest reports and give them their instructions, then take to his bed at seven or eight and let his weariness take him away to sure slumber. At five in the evening he would rise, have a bath and a light meal and by seven his new day would truly begin again. Yet, while the business of war and desire for successful conquest took up the lion's share of his every waking thought, his dreams were beyond his control and were therefore left susceptible to the invasion he could never stave off, no matter his truest will or best effort: the one where his sister slipped stealthily into his sub-conscience and invaded his defenseless heart.

"And to you. Good news, Your Excellence—Rimini has fallen under your sway—we have the brothers Malatesta in our custody; Astorre of Faenza has surrendered himself, as well, begging his reminder to us regarding your promise to leave him his liberty."

"Of course, he did," Cesare harrumphed at his Captain. "And he shall have it—under heavy guard and for the duration of his ride to Rome until he claims his cell in Castel Sant'Angelo. You have his brother, Octavian? And the other conspirators?"

"Oh, yes, Your Excellence," Micheletto assured him.

Cesare gave a pleased nod at him. "Has there been any word regarding da Vinci?"

"He is in Cesena, Your Excellence, mere miles from here—he has finally expressed interest in an appointment, and better..." Micheletto produced a large, rolled parchment that had been secured in his belt alongside his scabbard, and handed it to Cesare, "he puts himself forward and offers you this as a token of his abilities—for your consideration."

Cesare took it, a smile of sure intrigue upon his face. "A map..." he confirmed under his breath as he unfurled it, "like none I've ever seen..."came his incredulous surprise. "This..." he rushed to his table, pushed everything aside and spread it out, using half-filled tankards and empty wine bottles for paperweights, "...this is the town plan of Imola...more detailed than any map we have currently, more than any map I've ever seen..."

"And he asked me to tell you that he is at work on another, Your Excellence—of the Chiana Valley in Tuscany..."

"Ha!" came Cesare's joyous guffaw. "He truly desires to be my military engineer, then."

"He does."

"Then we must meet, at last. Thank you, Micheletto, you are ever my greatest treasure," he beamed at his friend.

"I humbly beg to differ, Cesare," he dared.

"Stop that—I've been doing well to forget her, you know this..."

"Maybe in your waking hours, but your sleeping ones tell a different tale."

"I am alone during my sleeping hours, Micheletto—"

"Not really," he cut him off then, "not always. You thrash about in your sleep sometimes, loudly enough to be heard; I do not know what resolve you possess that keeps you from calling out her name...somehow, you manage not to. So far."

Micheletto's report visibly and greatly upset Cesare; he turned away from his friend in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to make you aware."

"Thank you." There was no emotion in Cesare's voice then.

"Your sister is back from her visit with La Bella in Carbognano—Gioffre is in Rome now; your father plans to dispense him to Nepi, for the Governor, Don Giancarlo di Tosoni has died suddenly—natural causes."

"Ah, His Holiness seeks to distance our young Gioffre and punish him for the debacle in Alvito," said Cesare as he came back to himself and walked over to the table to peruse the exquisite map again.

"And prepare safe haven for Lucrezia's children while they wait to join her at court in Ferrara."

"Hmm...and Sancia?"

"She has not been well, of late—she will remain in Alvito. His affection for her has long since been replaced by that of another; he is content to follow his father's wishes—and host his new love at court in Nepi."

"Really..."

Micheletto only nodded.

"Well, good, then; it keeps the castle secured; the children will be safe and in loving care; and he should be well-received, for Lucrezia was a most excellent ambassador for us...at least there is one small corner of the world where the name of Borgia is not uttered in the most vile contempt."

"della Rovere wishes to see you this evening."

"About?"

"A plot between Vitellozzo Vitelli and and the Orsini..."

"The plot we already know about..."

"Yes."

"Ah, he thinks he can fool me still with his false regard. Can I kill him yet, Micheletto?" he asked his friend wryly.

"It would be nice, but not wise at this time, hmm?"

"Hmm..." Cesare shot his friend and impish look under one raised eyebrow. "Indeed. I will give him five minutes—and then you will take me to da Vinci."

"It will be my pleasure. Machiavelli is in Cesena, as well."

"That is a reunion I look forward to."

"But there is a problem to be dealt with before you go to Cesena."

"Which would be?"

"The citizenry there is greatly displeased with the one you left in charge—"

"Ramiro d'Orco..."

"Yes. He has—outlived his usefulness—shall we say? If you endeavor to be received well, upon your own return, and for your orders that your sister be received as a sovereign lady throughout the Romagna, he must be dealt with."

"I thought the Duke was coming to Rome to visit with her again..."

"That was the initial plan, but she has gotten it into her mind now that she wants to see Ferrara for herself, before the baby comes; His Holiness is greatly consternated."

"I'm sure—she is to go to convent soon..."

"Yes."

"She's cutting it close..."

"Yes."

"That's my Lucrezia, rebellious to the last."

Micheletto nodded his agreement.

"So...then I shall not see da Vinci this night."

"No."

"But I shall see d'Orco—and he shall see me." Cesare said then, with a faraway look in his resolute eyes.


	32. Assistance

"della Rovere."

"Your Excellence, thank you for seeing me."

"Of course, but I am on the way to an appointment..."

"Ah, well, then I truly do appreciate you allowing me this moment. I'm sure your captain apprised you of the reason for my urgent request for an audience with you?"

"Only vaguely; we had much to discuss otherwise."

"Anything that I may be of service with?"

 _Does he truly think that it is that easy?_ Cesare resisted the urge to laugh in the man's face; his anger at the man's gall helped to keep his countenance serious and unmoved. "When I have need of your ecclesiastical services, Cardinal, you will know it."

della Rovere gave a humble nod of his head but was seething inside from Cesare's rebuke. "Of course."

"I do not mean to rush you, Cardinal, but I am on my way out..."

"Yes. To the gist of it then: your Condottieri are ever ill at ease, Your Excellence...at least, from what I've come to gather of late in my most ecclesiastical of duties..."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

"Remind me then, not to seek you out for confession, Cardinal."

della Rovere dropped all pretense and decorum then, greatly irritated by Cesare's flippant attitude. "There is a plot in the works against you, Cesare—"

"And this is news, Cardinal? There has been a plot against me ever since His Holiness took the papal throne—I believe you know this well." Cesare leveled a particularly knowing glare at the man before him as he kept his tone even.

"This one is most imminent and involves the brothers Orsini and Vitellozzo Vitelli; I hear them question often your cruel tactics and they have been in secret talks with the Duke of Urbino..."

"Your nephew."

"Well, yes..."

"You would betray those confidences—your sacred oath as a Father Confessor—to name not only my Condottieri, but your own nephew to me?"

"My interest in this stems from my love of the Holy Mother Church, for which you have been put forward to defend, Your Excellence."

"I appreciate your intent but would ask you not to further jeopardize yourself in such a manner; continue to hear their confessions and give them wise counsel—but please, I insist—keep it to yourself."

della Rovere noted that Cesare was giving up nothing; he knew that his desire for the conquest of Urbino was a part of the larger plan and he had assured his nephew that he would do all that he could to help prevent it; he had been playing a dangerous game with the Orsini and Vitelli, but he had been certain that he could orchestrate them deftly enough to truly put an end to Cesare Borgia. What he did not know at that point was that Vitelli had already betrayed him to Cesare.

"You don't understand..."

"At this moment, Cardinal della Rovere, I understand many things. Very clearly." Cesare smiled at him then, and it gave della Rovere a very definite chill. "Now, thank you, but I really must be on my way..." Cesare gestured della Rovere's dismissal with his out-stretched arm ushering him out of the tent.

della Rovere comported himself and walked slowly to the exit. "Maybe you would like for me give my blessing, then, for your safe journey—where did you say that you were going again?"

"Offer your prayer to St. Bona of Pisa, that she will see us all safely along our travels, then, Cardinal, and goodnight." Cesare held the tent flap open for him, stepped out behind him and nodded his escort away at two soldiers.

Micheletto approached him then and they both watched him disappear from sight. "Are you ready, then?"

"Indeed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia? Open the door, sister, I have news..."

"Come in, Gioffre..." she called out to him.

"Oh—I have not wakened Giovanni, have I?" he asked then when he saw his sister sitting by his crib with the boy in her arms.

"No, dearest—he is up and ready to play, now...wave hello to your uncle, Giovanni..." she cooed at him as she raised his hand and guided the babe to give a wave at Gioffre.

"Hello, little nephew..." Gioffre rushed to them both and got down on one knee; he took the boy's hand and gave it a gentle shake before he kissed his forehead, then Lucrezia's free hand, as well. "The best news, Lucrezia..."

"What, Gioffre?" she smiled down at him.

"We are to have a true reunion—Cesare returns soon—by the end of the week, mother tells me—to be declared the undisputed Duke of the Romagna by His Holiness! I shall get to see him before I go away to Nepi!"

Gioffre's excitement was beyond joyous. He had always loved all of his siblings, whole-heartedly and the same, all of his life; it was what had made Juan's betrayal of him with Sancia so very painful. Up until that point all of them treated him with their own equal love and affection, and the factions within the family, even evident to him as a young boy, had been more than baffling to him.

As the years had gone on he had found it increasingly difficult to continue to harbor ill-will towards a dead man. Though he held them both to blame in the affair, he also knew that his young age at the time of his marriage was destined to cause it to fail; Sancia had been a woman, with a mature and definite sexual appetite and he had just been a boy—and worse—an alliance. He was old enough finally to understand the push and pull of sexual urges, and the messy entanglements that often ensued because of them, but he would never have bedded his own brother's woman. Still, maturity—and more than that, love—made him not only truly forgive his brother, but caused him to miss Juan immeasurably.

"Well..." Lucrezia gave a gentle tap to her brother's shoulder and made to get up from her seat with Giovanni, "that's wonderful for you, dearest..." she set him down on a pallet on the floor littered with some of his favorite toys.

"What do you mean, sis?"

"I shall not be here when he arrives—I shall be on my way to Ferrara..."

"No! Sis? Can you not delay that trip? Even one day? I would so love for us all to be together again..." Gioffre was absolutely crestfallen.

"Oh, my love..." she rose up from Giovanni and took her brother's cheek into her soft hand, "I'm so sorry, but it's all arranged; you know that I only have a little time before I can absolutely not hide this pregnancy any longer—I must make this trip as soon as possible...how were we to know Cesare would have such success so soon? If I could arrange it otherwise you know that I would..." she lied sweetly to him.

Lucrezia knew full-well that Cesare was about to return, for her mother had given her the news as soon as she had heard it come from the lips of her father. Cesare had abandoned her and she was determined not to set eyes upon him again before she must suffer his presence at her wedding; she hoped that, even then, he would be busy and far away, on a campaign that would require his presence elsewhere more than his in Rome. She was still so very hurt and angry and she had no idea when she might be relieved of either condition; she was certain she would still feel the same on her wedding day.

"Now...let us talk of Nepi—I'm sure that you have questions and I would love to answer all of them that I can, yes?"

"Yes, sis. I hear that it is a wonderful place to hunt—I don't go a day without shooting—it has been the one great hobby that has kept me sane all of these years with Sancia."

"Yes, you men and the hunt..." Lucrezia thought back to her first husband and how he always smelled of game and horses; she shook the thought of him off before it led her down a more dangerous path of memories. "They have an archery tournament in Spoleto that you must avail yourself to; win that for Nepi, brother, and you will win their hearts, as well."

"Excellent! Tell me more about your time there, sis..." he asked her excitedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Cesare and Micheletto arrived in Cesena it was near midnight. According to Micheletto's reports Ramiro d'Orco would be on his way home to his empty palazzo, fresh from the local tavern and ready to receive a whore to help carry him to slumber. They arrived before the whore, a scared-looking young girl, who took off on foot at the sight of the masked man waiting in the shadows of the stairway that led to the second floor and right into another, just past the fountain in the middle of the square.

"Shh..." The masked man hissed at her, a finger to his lips; held a leather pouch out at the stunned girl, heavy with coin, she discovered, when he placed it in her palm and gently closed her grubby fingers over it; he nodded a vigorous dismissal at her then with his head and the girl fled away. He joined the other at the stairs and they waited. Soon they heard lonely footsteps approaching; they looked around, and seeing no one else in the square removed their masks; they waited for him to enter his door and close it, then went immediately and knocked upon it.

"Micheletto? And good evening to you—to what do I—"

Micheletto pushed d'Orco far enough in through the door to allow Cesare's stealthy entrance, then closed and locked it behind him; d'Orco was not drunk, only pleasantly warmed by the cognac coursing through his veins, and had enough of his faculties to know that Cesare Borgia slipping in unannounced and unexpectedly was not a good thing.

"Your Excellence! A pleasure to see you again, at last..." Ramiro d'Orco gave a deep bow at his master.

"And you, Ramiro."

"Congratulations on all of your conquests thus far, my Lord—please come in...how may I be of assistance to you? A secret mission, maybe? Haven't had one of those in a while..."

"Ah...I would say that you have offered assistance enough, Ramiro. I have had reports—not happy ones."

d'Orco's demeanor changed instantly from one of cautious good-will to that of one who feels a most imminent and sure threat. "From?"

"Who else? The people here. They say that you are unnecessarily cruel."

"Is that right?" His voice was full of contempt.

"Yes."

"I have only patterned myself after my own employer, Your Excellence—the very reason I was left to maintain this stronghold to begin with."

"Well, that may be, Ramiro, but a new approach is needed now—to appease the people."

"You mean, to appease yourself—this is all about your gain..."

"No..." Cesare's tone was quite contemplative and he began to pace the floor around d'Orco. "No, this is about the unification of Italy...and all of her people."

"Ha! This is about a despotic Spanish Pope and his barbaric, bastard son! You envision and empire for yourselves, but all I see is death, Borgia..."

Cesare came to a stop, facing the man again. "Of course...the only sure thing that we can all count on, Ramiro."

"Well, go ahead then, give it your best—I have heard how inept you are with a blade—how many spleens have you displaced trying to tear out a heart?" d'Orco sneered at him as he backed away down his hallway.

Cesare laughed out loud. "You are correct; I will openly admit that anatomy was never my best course. Then again, it is hard to rip out the heart of man who does not possess one." Cesare advanced upon him slowly but Micheletto remained at the door.

"Come on—I see your man standing back there—it's to be you and I, then—come give it your best—I can do without a spleen..." Ramiro snarled at him.

"No, I think that I shall bypass such an endeavor tonight, and go for an easier target, Ramiro..."

Ramiro drew his sword, took a run and lunged at Cesare.

Cesare dodged him and drew his own sword. "That's it—very good, Ramiro!" Cesare laughed at him.

Cesare's laughter was too much for the man, assaulting his ears, it's echo bouncing off of the marble floor. "I'm no easy target..." the incensed man began, "I may die this night but it will be at the hands of your soldiers who come to carry me away from your bloody carcass, Borgia..."

Their battle began in earnest then. Cesare was invigorated by the opportunity to engage in a real fight, as opposed to the fairly boring and peaceful affairs his conquests thus far had been comprised of; he bested his opponent easily, filled with his own sure blood-lust, which was powered by his rage, that needed such expression; his heartbreak over his sister; his need to lash out at anything and see it die, as surely as his heart died every day that he was without her. As a matter of fact, Ramiro became a surrogate for everything that pained him: the many enemies he had yet to vanquish; his sister's impending marriage; the Son's of Rome, forever plotting against him; Giuliano della Rovere, ever plotting against his father.

He was a force of fury and d'Orco was more than caught off-guard by it, by his power and resolve; by his own inability to land a successful strike against the man; he was as a man possessed by a demon and d'Orco, for one of the very few times in his life, knew real fear as he looked into Cesare's mad, empty eyes; when he saw his own sword go sailing out of his grip he truly panicked.

"FIGHT ME, YOU SCURRILOUS DOG! FIGHT ME! DELIVER ME!" Cesare roared at him. "AAAARRGGHH!" He went to where the man's sword lay on the ground, picked it up and threw it back at his feet. "FIGHT!" he ordered him.

Cesare was gripped then by something Micheletto would ever be able to truly explain or describe and that d'Orco would not live to; rooted to his spot on the floor, d'Orco sank down upon his hands and knees, beaten, but trying not to give in to his full fear and let it show in his eyes.

"Your Excellence..." Micheletto approached Cesare carefully, calling him out quietly.

"Stay where you are, Captain..." he said, never taking his eyes off of d'Orco; he poked at d'Orco's belly with the tip of his sword. "You can do without a spleen—isn't that what you said? SPEAK UP!"

The man said nothing.

"Ah...I see. I shall give you one more chance to be a man, you cur. One of us will die..." Cesare said calmly as he threw his own sword to the floor and got down on his own hands and knees as well, looking feral and deadly, poised as ferociously as a lion on its haunches; both of their swords an equal distance from their grip. "My Captain will count to three; one of us will reach his sword first and run the other through—Captain..."

"Your Excellence..." Micheletto did well to keep the sure anxiety out of his voice.

"CAPTAIN! A count, please," Cesare requested through gritted teeth.

"One..." Micheletto counted out boldly.

For a split second d'Orco's fear left him but he knew he only stood one chance in hell to beat the man.

"Two..."

d'Orco lunged grabbed at his sword; Cesare, quicker, anticipating that the man would cheat, had his two hands upon the hilt of his own a split second before him; he rose up with a quickness that did not seem possible and decapitated the man with one strong blow.

"Cesare..."

Cesare threw his sword to the floor and turned wildly about to face his friend, breathing heavily and still not totally himself.

"The girl has been here before and will be easy to find—I know her name and where she lives...we should take no chances..." Micheletto suggested delicately.

"Agreed. Go, Micheletto, handle her—I shall handle this..."

"No—whatever your plan is, wait for me..." he approached him then and took Cesare roughly by the shoulders, "wait for me..." His order burned from his eyes into Cesare's until he saw the first flicker of true recognition.

"Yes...I...will wait for you."


	33. The Undisputed

The next morning, as the citizens of Cesena awoke and began to go about the business of the new day, a horrifying discovery was made: in the middle of the square stood a small, portable scaffold, and upon it were the grisly remains of Ramiro d'Orco, whose body had been quartered and his decapitated head raised high, perched upon the tip of a ten-foot lance.

Amidst the immediate shock registered from all of those present and screams of horror from several gentleladies about the square, the mayor and his deputy were finally summoned; he organized a group of men to help clear away the body and prepare to cart the scaffold away.

"Get this abomination covered and over to the medic's office..." he ordered several men when they had all of the man's parts collected. "Where are his men? Someone go and check his palazzo..." he ordered some others; he signaled his deputy to come over to him.

"Yes, _Sindaco_?

"Get a message to the Duke of Valentinois regarding this horrid development, right away," he barked at the man.

"Yes, right away..." the deputy rushed away.

While the mayor was busy trying to restore peace in the square messengers had arrived for two other residents in the comune; with word that the Duke of Valentinois would be arriving the next day to meet with them, they were also hearing the news regarding the commotion in the square.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One recipient, making good use of the morning sun, stood at his easel reading the missive that had been delivered to him and smiled to himself.

"Thank you," he nodded at the cavalier who bowed and then went back on his way. " _Salai_...the Duke arrives tomorrow—it appears that I am hired."

"Of course you are hired, Leonardo, you cannot possibly be surprised..." said his young assistant, who was lounging on the window seat before him, in sensual and almost feline repose, naked as the day he was born and enjoying his morning cup of tea. "His Excellency, Cesare Borgia, is a handsome devil—please keep your dealings with him professional, Leonardo, or you shall make me most unhappy..."

"And we cannot have that, now, can we? Be assured, Gian, there is no more handsome a devil than you that I shall ever know."

"Remember those words or I shall make you eat them," Gian smiled through his reply with a look of warning.

"I can think of better things to eat than words, _Salai_..."

"As can we all."

Leonardo laughed out loud before he picked up his own cup of tea and took a sip.

"What do you make of all of this business with the Duke's man?" Gian asked then.

"I don't want to make anything of it," Leonardo snapped at him. "You'd be wise to follow the same course, I'd hazard to say. I'm no general; I'm not a soldier—I draw; I paint pictures; I design dreams..."

"The only man living that can that can make dreams come true—both beauteous...and deadly."

Leonardo walked over to Gian and traced the lovely contour of his handsome face. "I shall concentrate on the beauty, then..."

"You can't be so naïve, Leonardo! You are about to be employed by a war lord!" Gian erupted at him and threw Leonardo's hand away from his cheek. "You think he wants you for your beautiful maps? For you to show him only how to build better bridges? You know what you left behind in Milan—you remember that I stayed behind to retrieve what I could and _before_ I could Pascal was not only admitting a tour of the ruins, but giving more than a cheerful guide to the Duke's captain; what could be confiscated and used surely was, Leonardo, and used as the instrument of death it was designed to be."

"All of a sudden you are a man of war, Gian?" Leonardo hissed angrily at him.

"I am a man who desires to survive this war—all of these never-ending wars, Leonardo, and for you to do the same."

"Should I ever decide to, I can walk away from this, Gian—all of this—just as I did in Milan. I didn't ask you to stay behind, I begged you to come with me; you didn't stay to save my works, you stayed to save Pascal."

Leonardo let that truth hang in the air between them a moment, then turned and left Gian as he took angry strides away toward the door.

"Leonardo, don't do this!" Gian called after him, receiving only the response of Leonardo's slam of the door after he disappeared through it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other recipient of his missive from the Duke of Valentinois was in a meeting with the Chancery, already abuzz with the news of d'Orco's demise.

"Well, Niccolo—Florence will surely be awaiting your next report, hmm?" said one of the chancellors as he approached him then. "What have you there?"

"The Duke of Valentinois, Roberto, is set to declare Cesena as the true capital of his duchy."

"Isn't that a bit premature?"

"I think not—he has acquired the necessary lands to be declared the undisputed Duke of the Romagna; more of the same will follow, you know this. He arrives tomorrow."

"Does he, really? Maybe he has already been here—what say you?"

The other chancellors, involved in their own separate conversations, all stopped to hear his answer.

"I shall tell you all what I shall surely tell Florence when they ask me the same: I can tell you nothing concerning the execution of Ramiro d'Orco, except that Caesar Borgia is the prince who best knows how to make and unmake men according to their deserts." With that Machiavelli left them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a little house, far from the commotion of the square, another drama was playing out as a mother looked her concern at her daughter across the kitchen table from her. Her other daughter, a favorite whore of Ramiro d'Orco, had not returned from her appointment with him the night before, neither to pay her madam or come home and sleep in her own bed. He never kept her beyond the rise of the sun and she had never not reported to her madam to turn over her cut. Little did she know yet that she would never see her daughter again. The girl had been easily found by Micheletto, who had slit her her throat, ridden her out thirteen miles away, and dumped her dead body into the Adriatic Sea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening in Rome, Rodrigo had just concluded dinner with Gioffre and his sullen daughter, who would take her leave for Ferrara in two days.

"Lucrezia, will you not reconsider? Cesare will be here Friday, you could truly delay your trip one more day so that he could accompany you..."

"I am blessed to have another brother, Holy Father..." she cast a smile in Gioffre's direction, "who is able and willing to accompany me on my short trip before he must himself leave us for Nepi. I'm sorry, Gioffre, that I shall be the cause for the delay in the reunion with your brother, but I understand he shall still be here when you return. Thank you for your loving sacrifice."

"You are most welcomed, sister," he smiled back at her.

"So, the convent is all set to receive you—"

'Yes, Holy Father; I shall go straight there from Ferrara as Gioffre returns here. And then you shall have no more trouble from me for the whole of five blessed months before the birth of your next grandchild and my wedding."

"Lucrezia, please, must you continue to be so disagreeable?" Rodrigo began wearily.

"Oh..Holy Father—I have more than spared you from my most disagreeable self. If you wish for that to remain the case you shall allow me to bid my adieu for the night. Goodnight to you both." She rose from the dining table and left them, passing Cardinal Sforza on her way through the door.

"My Lady," Ascanio gave a bow of his head at her.

"Cardinal Sforza." With that Lucrezia was only a memory to them all.

"Your Holiness—a word?"

"Yes?"

Ascanio said nothing else as he waited.

"Oh, yes...yes then—Gioffre, will you kindly excuse Us?"

"Certainly, Holy Father. Goodnight to you both." Gioffre rose and left them hurriedly.

When they were alone Ascanio came and sat down across from Rodrigo.

"I have news of the latest exploits of your son." Ascanio leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs as he relaxed and settled himself comfortably; he clasped his hands together and smirked to himself as he sat in quiet contemplation.

Rodrigo waited. "Well! What is it, man?" Rodrigo blustered at him, unable to suffer the suspense another moment longer.

"The good favor of the people has been surely reinforced, Holiness, in Cesena and certainly, throughout the whole of the Romagna—and not a moment too soon, considering the trip your daughter is to make presently."

"Yes? Go on..."

"Ramiro d'Orco has been quite effectively dispatched...in several choice pieces, no less—Cesare arrives in the morning at Cesena; he will declare it as the seat of his Duchy as the Duke of the Romagna, where he will employ the services of Leonardo da Vinci as his military engineer and plan next to take Piombino, Urbino and Camerino."

"Ahh!" Rodrigo clapped his hands together and rose up from his seat with a triumphant spring of his body. "Where do We begin, Ascanio? Ahh!" Rodrigo began a happy pace of the room, then stopped suddenly and faced Ascanio again. "In pieces, you say?" he asked him conspiratorially.

Ascanio's smirk grew broader before he began to relay the news, as he had heard it, to Rodrigo.


	34. Reunion

"Your Excellence Cesare Borgia—we meet at last."

"Leonardo da Vinci—it is my honor, sir." Cesare gave a deep bow at him.

"This is my protege—Gian Giacomo Caprotti da Oreno—he was just leaving..." Leonardo said as he gave a smile at the handsome man standing before an easel mixing paints.

"Sir," Cesare nodded at the man as he passed by on the way to the door.

"Your Excellence," Gian nodded back.

At the door stood Micheletto, who was silently awestruck at all of the beauty in the room—not of the various sculptures and paintings throughout it, in various stages of creation, but the living and breathing specimens—in the form of the three men before him.

Gian recognized Micheletto immediately and gave a subtle little sneer at him as Micheletto held the door open for him to exit. Although the look Gian received in return chilled him to his core he managed to show no sign of its true effect upon him. When the door to the studio behind him closed Gian took a seat in the adjoining salon and vowed to himself to wait for a moment alone with the brute; he knew that, no matter what deliberations the captain needed to be privy to there would be others that he would be dismissed from, for he knew well that Leonardo wanted a moment alone with Borgia. Surely enough, the door did open sometime later and through it came the red-haired captain.

Micheletto walked over to the divan were Gian was reclining; Gian stood up slowly to face him; their eyes had been locked onto each others unwaveringly from the moment the door had opened; Micheletto's eyes were full of fire and venom and Gian's met them, with a fine fury burning in his own.

"You waiting for me, _boy_?" Micheletto hissed his quiet threat at him.

"As you knew that I would be, Captain."

"Well...what?"

"Well..." Gian gave an indignant little snort and then Micheletto a very pointed and hateful once-over before their eyes met again, "Pascal—what happened to him?"

"You have some _suspicions_ , I take it?"

"Oh, yes, that I do. You killed him, didn't you?"

"The answer to that question would be the death of you, sir, for having the gall to ask it."

"You would not dare—Leonardo would not stand for it."

"You are correct, I would not dare— _in this palazzo_."

"You don't scare me, Captain, and it is an unnecessary endeavor—I only wish to know what befell my friend—it is you that he left Milan for, after all."

"He did not leave Milan for me, _boy_ —he made a deal with the Devil and the Devil collected his due."

"I do not—"

The two men heard footsteps on the other side of the closed door; Gian's tongue froze in his mouth as his eyes darted toward it; Micheletto's cold, quiet voice brought him back to attention as he leaned in closer to Gian's ear.

"I don't care who you are or what you are to him," he nodded back toward the door with his head, "tread carefully, boy—it would truly be a pity for the world to lose such a one as beautiful as yourself...a pity, indeed." Micheletto drew away from him slowly and then left the salon, disappearing only a split second before the door opened to reveal the pleased smiling visages of Leonardo and Cesare, both full of promise and mutual admiration.

"Very well, then; I have another appointment here before I ride back to Rome to report to His Holiness; we shall meet again on the field at Piombino."

"Very good, Your Excellence." Leonardo watched him go and then called Gian over to him, who looked visibly shaken.

"What is it, _Salai_?"

"Nothing that matters now. When do you leave me?" he asked him haughtily.

"Stop pouting—we shall not talk of leaving now. Come...there is the most exquisite look on your face that I must capture this very moment..." Leonardo took Gian's hand and led him back to the studio.

"You would paint the torment you see on my face? Now?"

"No, _Salai_ —the love," Leonardo said softly before he placed a kiss upon his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So...that was the infamous _Il Salaino_ —there was tension between the two of you—why?" Cesare asked Micheletto when they met up in the grand hall beyond the salon.

"Nothing to be concerned about there," said Micheletto as he pushed himself away from the wall, his steps falling in time with Cesare's as they marched away. "He is beautiful—bold, even—but he has no brains."

Cesare let out a hearty guffaw. "To Machiavelli, then."

"Yes, to Machiavelli."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ahh—Your Excellence! To what do I owe? Certainly this is a most-welcomed visit for I cannot possibly imagine that there could be any counsel you might seek from me now..." Niccolo smiled warmly at Cesare as he ushered him and Micheletto into his library. "Captain Corella, so good to see you again."

"And the same to you, good sir." Micheletto bowed his head at him and remained posted at the door as Niccolo led Cesare to a conference table in the middle of the room.

"Please, have a seat—Gilberto, refreshments for our guests, please?" he turned to his servant who had shown them in.

The young man gave a bow and scurried away.

"As ever, Cesare, you manage to strike the balance between the love and fear that your subjects feel for you—bravo," Niccolo said as he took his seat across from him.

"Oh? Do I have subjects? I think not," Cesare harrumphed as he settled himself into his own.

"Oh, I think that you do. You are well on your way, I would hazard to say."

Cesare gave Niccolo a skeptical look and a shake of his head. "Really? And does Florence share your view?"

"Florence is ever-involved in its own state of upheaval, Cesare—the maintenance of a Republic can be such nasty business, hmm?"

"Speaking of which, how _is_ life without the Medici?" Cesare joked him.

Niccolo gave a silent laugh but made no comment. The servant returned then with wine and poured out their goblets; he served Micheletto at the door and then made haste away.

"I see that Cesena has brought you both a tragedy and a treasure—congratulations, to you."

"And by tragedy you mean Ramiro d'Orco?"

"Yes, such a shame—the killer—or killers—are still on the loose. Somehow, the citizens have no concern over that at all and are simply relieved that he is no more," he said in mock amazement.

"Well then, if the perpetrator—" Cesare concentrated on his goblet as he gave a swirl to the wine, managing to keep a look of amusement from his face before he looked squarely back at Niccolo, "or perpetrators—could be found I would surely thank them, myself." He raised his goblet to Niccolo, who raised his own at Cesare in return.

"Indeed," Niccolo smiled at him.

Both men drank.

Niccolo set his goblet down gently. "And the treasure..."

"The whole of the city is a treasure, Machiavelli."

"One in particular has been added to your war chest, hmm?"

"Finally, yes."

"Congratulations again; he will serve you well...be careful with him."

"What do you mean?" Cesare asked him with an intrigued lift of his eyebrow.

"He is a genius; I would hazard to say even, a seer."

"I would be inclined to agree—as would the world; most definitely he is a man before his time."

"And a man _of_ his time, as well,Your Excellence; he is an artist, after all, with the gentle sensitivities of an artistic man. He...creates now and...thinks later, shall we say?"

Cesare looked a question at him.

At the door standing ever silent Micheletto knew well what Machiavelli meant; he had doubted himself that the man truly had the stomach for war and what diagrams on a drawing board could truly mean for a soldier on the battlefield after they had been forged into reality.

"Just remember Milan, Your Excellence, and that da Vinci has enough ideas to spare that he can walk away easily from those _he_ may eventually find untenable."

"And you said that you could not imagine what counsel I might seek from you now...thank you, Machiavelli—I will most assuredly remember Milan."

"You remember the other issue we spoke of before, Cesare, when last we met?" Niccolo asked him then, his voice low enough for just Cesare to hear him.

"I have no secrets from my man, my friend—you may speak boldly. Yes, I remember all the issues we have spoken of, Machiavelli, and I am ever working against the sands of time, which are slipping through my fingers as we speak."

Niccolo nodded his understanding at him.

"And now, back to Rome I must go."

The two men rose from the table.

"Until next time, my friend."

"Until next time, Your Excellence."

Cesare and Micheletto left then for the long ride back to the Holy City.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock upon the door.

"Who is it?"

"Your brother..."

"Cesare? Cesare!"

The door opened to reveal Gioffre's excited, smiling face. "Big brother! I didn't think I'd get the chance to see you before we left in the morning..."

"Gioffre—not so little brother any longer—come here..." Cesare gave his brother a strong, paternal hug then held him at arm's length. "How do you fare, brother?"

"You mean Sancia, of course..."

"Of course."

"Very well, considering. Come in, brother and let's sit and I shall tell you..." Gioffre pulled him into his apartment and to the salon, then to a seat on the settee next to him. "You know, brother, I have found happiness elsewhere," Gioffre began as he poured some wine for them both.

"Yes, I have heard. Is she a better match for you, brother?"

"She is, Cesare—cheers," he held up his goblet for a toast.

"Cheers." The two men heartily downed their drinks in one gulp.

"Been making time at the taverns, eh?"

"I can hold my own," Gioffre smiled broadly at his brother.

"I can see that. Pour us another—to savor this time."

"Sancia has been ill, Cesare," Gioffre said then, as he refilled their goblets, "and I find that I am genuinely worried for her."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What is her trouble?"

"The medics seem to be able to put forth no real diagnosis, I'm afraid. She has been bed-ridden these past few months; I do not know what it will come to," he told his brother with real concern in his voice.

"I hope that her health will improve soon, Gioffre."

"Yes, thank you, brother."

"I know that mother and father must be ecstatic to have you back. And Lucrezia."

"Oh, they have been most wonderful—have you seen them yet?"

"No, brother, I came straight to you first."

Gioffre beamed a proud smile at his brother before it faded and he looked down at the floor forlornly. "I thought at first when I'd been summoned by father he was to have my head for Alvito. I don't want to talk about that, brother," Gioffre sad sadly.

"It is hard to know which side to play on the ever-changing landscape that is Italian politics, Gioffre—when you choose not to stay abreast of the things that most concern you," Cesare cautioned him sternly; it was the only rebuke he would ever level at his younger brother, but Gioffre took his words to heart in the manner in which they were offered—with love.

"I deserve that, Cesare, I know. I shall not ever make such a mistake as that again."

"Worry not, little brother—you are ever loved," Cesare reached across the seat and gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "So...Sancia brings you a different kind of heartache now—Maria de Mila brings you joy—tell me of her, hmm?" he smiled at his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was already late when Cesare had arrived at Castel Sant'Angelo, but it was well after midnight when he left his brother's apartment and went to Lucrezia's; he stopped at the door with the intent to knock upon it but his hands remained frozen in place as they hung limply at his sides; he rested his forehead against the door as a tear came to his eye; with all of his heart he wanted to call out to her but all he could feel was fear: fear of her rejection of him, payment for his cowardly departure away from her; fear of her anger at him for the abandonment she had foreseen so long ago; and shame, for being weak enough to forsake her and have the nerve to call it a sacrifice, as if he was doing something noble and right. What was right about his breaking heart? But he was afraid to face her, afraid of her wrath; afraid—that he would look into her face, her eyes—to find that her heart held no anchor for his own any longer.

His hands went to the door then, as he clawed his torment against it, silently, wishing that she could feel his presence, come running to the door, open it and forgive him. He struggled to keep his cry a silent one, as well, and finally, when his blinding tears subsided enough, he tore himself away from her door and made haste to his own apartment to give his anguish its full voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the door, past her salon and in her bed, Lucrezia lay awake, her stomach in knots, aware only of her own trepidations over what the new day had in store for her. She knew that she was tempting the fates, traveling again so late in her pregnancy; she was just finally beginning to show and the morning sickness was erratic, but she was only going to be there a week, she reasoned with herself. She would stay off of her feet—no walking tour of the town square, no late-night reveling. She would limit herself to enjoying the many musicians at court that she'd heard so much about and take to her bed early in the evenings, as she had done in Nepi; if the Duke desired her company any later than that it would have to be on the condition of utmost privacy, since he knew well her true condition. Just a week. And then she would be at convent, free to spend her days in whatever peace her pregnancy would allow, close to home and in the company of her precious Giovanni, away from the eyes of the Vatican and the world.

She had indeed been sorry about delaying Gioffre's reunion with Cesare but she was glad that her heart would not have to suffer the torment of seeing him. Only one more time would she have to endure him; thankfully, that day, though imminent,was blessedly not so near.

She closed her eyes then, praying that sleep would come, and that her dreams would not be haunted another night by the one who had stolen into them often; either in the guise of her Cesare as the man that he was, the boy he had been, or even the faceless figures that were clearly someone else but surreal enough to be him at the same time; even better, she prayed that there would be no dreams at all as she searched desperately for a void to crawl into where she might find safe harbor for her heart and mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia, my love—please? Won't you have something to eat?" Vannozza was relieved to see the door finally open to reveal her daughter; who had forgone dinner and taken to her apartment early the evening before, ahead even of sunset.

"Mother, for the last time, I have absolutely no appetite—please have plenty of dry toast and water packed for my ride, for that is all that I can keep down, anyway."

Vannozza was surprised to see her daughter up and dressed while everyone else was just arising to prepare for breakfast. Lucrezia noticed her mother's surprised look.

"I am a bundle of nerves, mother, surely you can imagine? I've had little sleep and have been up for hours; Giovanni has been fed and is napping again. Please give my good morning and my apologies to all, for I shall not be down for breakfast. And please tell Gioffre that I shall be ready at the appointed time and meet him at the carriage then. Please? These are my last hours with Giovanni and I do not wish to be disturbed."

"And what of your father? He will take this as a most hurtful slight and you know it."

"He can take it however he likes. He will either receive my kiss goodbye at my carriage away or he will not. I have a whole week of protocol to follow; a host of strangers to put my best face forward to as I represent myself and this family. As surely as I feel the weight of these burdens upon me I appreciate all that you have done for me, mother, and that I shall be blessed to even have this opportunity to get to know the Duke in such a private manner before our nuptials, truly I do. But right now I just want to be alone with myself and my child—is that so hard to understand?" Lucrezia said then, trying very hard to keep her irritation out of her tone. Vannozza's face softened.

"Yes, my love, surely I do. Can I get you anything now? Anything at all before I go?"

"I do thank you mother, but no." Lucrezia gave her mother a strong hug and then a kiss to her cheek. Without another word Vannozza left her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Vannozza reached their dining quarters she was surprised to find two sons seated when she had only expected one.

"Cesare?" She rushed over to him as he rose to receive her with open arms. "When did you get here?"

"Late last night."

"And you did not come to see us?"

"It seems that he required time alone with his beloved brother, Vannozza," Rodrigo smiled up at her from his seat at the table, and then at his two sons. "Where is Lucrezia?" He asked the question that was burning yet unspoken on Cesare's lips.

"She asked me to give you all her apologies, I'm afraid—except for you, Cesare, for she does not even know that you are here."

Cesare said nothing as he took his seat again, doing well not to display his disappointment. It was for the best, he assured himself silently. They had both been masters at hiding their truest affections for each other in such circumstances, but his sudden appearance would have surely been a shock to her. He grew angry at himself suddenly for being so desperate to see her that he would take such a chance, and one that could have been further injurious to her.

"Is she alright, mother?" Gioffre asked her then, breaking Cesare's internal diatribe against himself.

"These are her last moments alone with Giovanni and her own self, that is all. She will meet you at the carriage, dearest."

"Be assured that I shall take good care of her while we are away, mother."

"We are counting on you, Gioffre," said Rodrigo then.

"Yes, Holy Father."

"Cesare..."

"Yes, Holy Father?"

"We must go and see to other business now, but We shall need to meet with you soon, yes?"

"Yes, of course."

"Very good." Rodrigo rose from the table and gave each of his sons a loving hug and kiss as Vannozza looked on happily. He went to her next. "My love..." he whispered into her ear and then gave a sweet kiss to her cheek. "Until tonight."

Vannozza blushed and only nodded her head at him then watched him go. She was aware suddenly of eyes upon her and turned to face the ever stern glare of her son Cesare, and Gioffre's happy smile at her. "What?"

"Come, mother, join us while there is still a little time left for us to enjoy each other," Gioffre said as he held his hand out to her. Vannozza happily obeyed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had called out to her only once and knew that she was there, listening; he stood outside of her door knowing that she would not open it but was unwilling to let that deter him from the words he needed to speak.

"Lucrezia, I know that you can hear me, my love; I know that you are angry at me and that there is most likely nothing that I can say to change that sad fact at this moment. I understand that it is your wish to be left alone...I just want you to hear me, for it is very simple—if you never listen to another word that I may yet say to you, please do not forget these precious three: I love you. I...just wanted...to tell you that."

On the other side of her door she had listened to him, in tears, clutching at it, wishing that she could quell her anger enough to open it and admit him, feel his strong embrace about her. But she was just not ready. She heard his footsteps travel away from the door and disappear into silence.

"I love you, too, father," she whispered at the door through her choked sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally the time came to go. She stood in the main entrance leading out of the Basilica with Vannozza, Miracella and her son; she gave Giovanni his last kisses and then entrusted him to Miracella.

"Don't you worry about a thing, my Lady—and it is only a week, after all. I wish you only the best and every happiness. I hope the Duke proves to be worthy of you," Miracella dared to say in earnest.

"My dear girl, if you only knew," Lucrezia said wistfully at her. "I shall have my peace knowing that my baby is in your loving hands. Be a good boy, Giovanni," she kissed him one last time and then received her mother's final embrace.

"I hope that you may find your reassurance on this trip away, my love—I am praying for it."

"Thank you, mother. I do appreciate you so."

"Your father, my love—"

"Said his goodbye to me, mother," she cut her off. Vannozza nodded at her.

"Did you get a chance to see Cesare at all?"

The floor felt suddenly as if it were falling from underneath her feet. "Cesare? Cesare is here?"

"He came sometime last night—he was at breakfast this morning—the first I saw of him, myself; he's in a meeting with your father now."

"Oh," was all that Lucrezia could manage of her tongue.

"He went first to visit Gioffre, but I would think that he would have at least stopped by your rooms last night; then again, you did retire very early..."

"Yes, I did; and the brothers surely needed their time together, I can understand that. I'm so happy for Gioffre, he wanted so to see him before we left. And I'm sure after you gave them my message this morning..." Lucrezia's head was swimming.

"Oh, he was in a most foul mood, Lucrezia, from worry over you—I did not need to hear his words to know it. So he honored your request, then. I'm sorry that you missed him."

_He did not come to me; my request did not stop father, but Cesare did not come; I have truly lost him. What must it take for me to realize it? What more?_

"Lucrezia? Are you alright?"

"What?"

"Your brow has broken a sweat, my love—is the morning sickness starting again?" Vannozza whispered at her.

"I..." Lucrezia stumbled and Vannozza caught her up.

"Maybe you should not make this trip now, my love..."

"I'm alright, mother—I must surely make this trip. I'm alright. Kiss me again and open the door now—the fresh air will help."

Outside, at the bottom of the steps her brother awaited her.

"Good morning, sis!" He kissed her cheek when she reached him.

"Good morning, Gioffre."

"Our escort awaits—come on, then," he helped her up and into the carriage.

From inside the carriage the siblings waved goodbye to their mother; they left Vatican City and set off with Lucrezia's usual escort of six hundred soldiers and were soon gone from sight through the city gates.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some ten hours later Lucrezia and Gioffre had arrived in Ferrara before the glorious Castello Estense with the sunset. They were received by the Duke and his immediate retinue and escorted to the Government Room on the first floor. Lucrezia noticed immediately that the Duke had trimmed his expansive beard down to a much neater and closer one, that better allowed one to see the youth on him—and that he was not so bad-looking, after all. At her eyes upon him the Duke could see that she was very quietly pleased.

"My Lady, it is my honor to receive you and your brother—welcome to Ferrara," Alfonso bowed at her.

"Thank you, my Lord, it is our honor to be here," Lucrezia gave him a curtsey.

"Although it is early in the evening you must surely be tired from your ride. We would have you both honor us by attending your formal welcoming ceremony at noon tomorrow, which will begin a week-long festival in your honor, my Lady."

"Thank you, Your Excellence, we look forward to it," Lucrezia curtsied again at him.

Alfonso dismissed his retinue then, retaining only two servants who had been appointed as valet and maid to Gioffre and Lucrezia, whom he instructed to leave but wait for them, beyond in the hall.

"I have not had the formal pleasure of meeting you..." Alfonso said to Gioffre when they were alone.

"Your Excellence, may I present my beloved brother, Gioffre Borgia; Gioffre, this is the man who so enamored Our Holy Father and our brother, Cesare—Alfonso d'Este."

"Your Excellence, it is my pleasure to meet you, at last. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from His Holiness, and my brother."

"Thank you—may I call you 'Gioffre'?"

"The honor would be mine, You Excellence."

"Alfonso," the Duke smiled at him.

"Alfonso, then."

"Very good. I would love to entertain you both, but dinner awaits and I know you both desire your respite. I would ask you both to indulge me one small favor before you away from me now?"

"And what is that, dear Duke?" Lucrezia gave her first smile at him.

"Please follow me a short way—I have something you must both see."

Alfonso led them away to the north side of the castle to the Small Chamber of Games on the first floor of the Lion's Tower.

"Oh, Alfonso—this is truly magnificent..." Lucrezia said then, awestruck as she looked up at the ceiling, which was decorated with the round dance of the Four Seasons; the whole room was an ode to the more playful components of life at court and the Ancient Roman games, represented by the frescoes surrounding them, amongst the many other wondrous delights of the room. "There is so much for the eye to enjoy that my brain knows not where to direct them first, my Lord..."

"I look forward to giving you both a a proper tour of the castle as the week progresses, my Lady, be assured of that—but come with me now and see this..." he smiled at her as he took her hand. "Come Gioffre," he said to the young man, who was admiring the frescoes of the Gladiators on the short walls, "you must see this..." Alfonso led them up to the balustrade of the Lion's Tower.

"Oh..." was all that Lucrezia could say as she gasped at that before her: a panoramic view of nighttime Ferrara, where the lights of the city twinkled like gems on black velvet before her. "Oh...Gioffre look—is it not magnificent?"

"It is most magnificent, sister," he smiled at her as he took her hand into his. "Most magnificent, Your Excellence," he said to Alfonso then.

The Duke nodded his thank you at them both.

Gioffre could see the genuine affection in the Duke's eyes at his sister and it made his heart happy for her; Cesare had told him that the man had quite won him over and had expressed to his brother his hopes that he would have the same eventual effect upon their sister; he was getting off to a good start. Gioffre let go of his sister's hand and stepped away to a corner to enjoy more of the view and give his sister a bit of privacy.

"How are you really, my Lady?" Alfonso asked her delicately then.

"I am grateful for this moment, Alfonso; thank you for your kind hospitality."

"Thank you for coming, Lucrezia, I know that it is rather late to have made such a journey at this time. And thank you for indulging me, now, for I wanted you to have this view of the city I love so well—and that I hope you will embrace as much as it seeks to embrace you," he said softly.

A tear came to her eye as she nodded at him.

"I am so happy to see you again, Lucrezia—there are not enough words that could truly describe my joy at this moment."

Lucrezia smiled but seemed to be at loss for words, herself. "I...I'm..."

Alfonso dared to put a finger to her soft lips. "Shh...your presence here is all the answer that I require at this moment, Lucrezia. Let me show you to your rooms now so that you may rest yourself, yes?"

She nodded her thanks and agreement at him as he took her hand; he walked her over to her brother and then led them both away.


	35. Confirmation

Lucrezia and Gioffre were welcomed formally by the house of d'Este the next day at noon and received by Alfonso and his father, Ercole I, Duke of Ferrara, in the opulently appointed Government Room. The old Duke was cordial, though not overly warm and Lucrezia hid her bruised feelings well. It was common knowledge that he was not overly enthusiastic over his son's alliance, for he had tried, most valiantly, to remain as neutral as possible in the Italian wars that had besieged the country for so long. Under other circumstances Lucrezia would have taken his demeanor with a grain of salt, secure in her own confidence that she would be a success and an asset to the house of d'Este, but her feelings were still bruised and raw: over the last rejection by Cesare and the general conflict that raged within herself over the desire to be the best wife she could truly be to Alfonso and her truest disdain over having to marry him, at all.

Even with all of the trepidation that raged within her, Alfonso's kindness and genuine warmth helped to carry her through the afternoon, as well as the arm of her brother, whom she was so thankful to for being there for her to physically lean upon. After a luncheon banquet in their honor Alfonso presented his bride-to-be to the citizens gathered in the city center, who received her and Gioffre with cheers and shouts of well-wishes; the festival began then, that would last the duration of their visit. Alfonso squired his lady off then and treated her and Gioffre to a ride in his fine Hungarian coach, which boasted quite the smooth ride and had become all the rage with Italian nobles since his brother, Ippolito, had brought one back with him after his studies at the court of Matthias Corvinus. With two-hundred of Lucrezia's soldiers and two-hundred of Alfonso's in tow, they rode through the heart of the city, with Alfonso proudly pointing out its loveliest landmarks, and then onward and east through the Po Delta, past the many fine ducal estates and palaces of d'Este's wealthy relatives and supporters.

"This is most lovely of you, Alfonso, thank you for this beauteous tour...the river is a wonder..." Lucrezia said as she stared out at it in awe.

"We have had our hard times by it, let me assure you—flooding can be quite horrendous. We manage," he smiled at her.

"Where does one go to hunt, here?" asked Gioffre.

"Ah yes, I have heard of your prowess with the bow, Gioffre. We have a retreat and game preserve here, the Coparius—best boar hunting in all of Italy, despite what my friends in Naples would say; and a falconer's delight, as well. We should have time this week for you and I to spend at least a day there."

"Wonderful!" Gioffre's joy was unabashed.

"I understand the fishing is quite good there, as well—and truffles?" Lucrezia asked him.

"Oh, yes; my sister, Isabella, used to love truffle hunting with her dogs as a young girl. You shall meet her in the months ahead, for she waits to receive you at Mantua as soon as we are able to away after our wedding."

"Yes, that will most certainly be my pleasure, dear Alfonso."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By sundown they were being greeted by the revelers in the streets; the beginning fireworks began to go off as they traveled back across the drawbridge to Castello Estense, casting their colorful and magnificent reflective bursts against the dark water in the moat.

Alfonso could see that Lucrezia was a bit tired.

"Thank you, again, my Lady, for indulging me with your time," Alfonso said as he escorted Lucrezia and Gioffre to their apartment quarters. "Dinner will be late tonight, if that suits, and will be a simple and private affair between my father, your brother, you and myself—are you up to it?"

"Oh, yes. I shall have time for a bath and a nap?"

"Most definitely—dinner will be at nine."

"Yes, that suits. Until then, dear Alfonso."

Alfonso took her hand and kissed the back of it. "Until then, my Lady." He opened the door to her apartment and then closed it gently behind her.

"Well, Gioffre, will you take your rest or may I possibly interest you in joining me for a drink?"

"That drink sounds most refreshing, Alfonso," Gioffre beamed at him.

"Good man," said Alfonso as he gave Gioffre a warm pat upon his back and then led him away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfonso devoted the next day to Lucrezia and Gioffre by giving them a beginning tour of the castle.

"I shall not try to show it all to you in one day, that would not be possible even if you were feeling at your best," Alfonso said quietly into her ear as he took her arm.

Lucrezia gave him a nod and a thankful smile.

"After lunch I have a wonderful surprise for you both," he said then, full of happiness over his little secret.

"Oh, Alfonso, you cannot leave it at that," Lucrezia said presently after she could see that he really planned to say no more.

"Welcome to the Garden of the Oranges..." Alfonso playfully ignored her.

"This is most breathtaking, dear Alfonso, but I cannot bear to be teased..."

"I will say only that your ears will be most delighted."

Lucrezia and Gioffre exchanged quizzical looks.

"Now, this garden was designed by Giralamo da Carpi..." Alfonso smiled as he resumed his presentation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, when lunch in the main dining hall was done, Alfonso escorted Lucrezia and Gioffre to the Hall of Games where seats were assembled before a small, intimate stage; other members of the court began to stream in and soon the Duke himself appeared, smiling his first genuine smile at Lucrezia.

"Ah, my Lady Lucrezia, you are in for the most delightful treat," the old Duke beamed at her as Lucrezia gave a happy curtsey. "Join me, please? Our seats await..." he held his arm out for her to take.

Seated between the old Duke on her left, Alfonso and then Gioffre on her right, Lucrezia noted the musicians on stage: one gentleman on the gamba; one young lady on the harp, one male lutist, one female singer with no instrument at all; one gentleman on the pipe and tabor and another on the recorder; and a finally, a female drummer. Lucrezia smiled her question first at the Duke, then asked him out loud in amusement, "I do not mean to be impolite, my Lord, but what on earth is this?"

"I have been honored to know many a fine musician in my lifetime, my Lady; we happen to have at court such a one who is a fine composer and the one responsible for what you are about to hear—it is a new form, all the rage here presently and soon to sweep all of Italy!" The Duke handed her a program. "This one is a collaboration with another of our esteemed musicians."

Lucrezia read the program quietly out loud. "Music by Bartolomeo Tromboncino, words..." she looked back up at the Duke. "Words?"

"Yes, my Lady—I present to you: the Frottola," he said as he looked, enrapt, upon the stage as the room quieted and the music began.

Lucrezia stole a glance back at the program and her jaw dropped open; she composed herself quickly and concentrated then on the lovely music, and then voices, that filled the room.

Several songs were performed and the concert was over just under an hour later and met with thunderous applause by the court.

"What say you, my Lady," the Duke asked her then as his eyes twinkled his delight at her.

"That...was the most beautiful thing I have yet heard in my life, my Lord. I am sorry that my words are so lame, but I am...most overwhelmed and moved," she gasped at him.

The Duke gave her an approving nod that further made Lucrezia's heart swell. "You must meet the musicians, one and all—come, my Lady," Ercole escorted her to the stage and introduced her to each wonderful musician. "And this is Bartolomeo Tromboncino..." he said proudly of the man who approached them next.

"My Lady, it is an honor," Tromboncino bowed at her.

"And this is Pietro Bembo—Cardinal—Pietro Bembo, now..."

"My Lady," Pietro smiled mischievously at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They had been whisked away and, for the rest of the afternoon and through dinner that evening, Lucrezia and Gioffre enjoyed the company of the Duke and Alfonso. It was never made apparent to her if Alfonso knew of Pietro's service to her in Nepi and she had not had—nor did she want—an audience with the Cardinal alone to find out. When she finally said her goodnight to everyone and retired to her room she was most ill at ease. What on God's earth was Pietro doing there? Would he still be at court after her nuptials? She paced her sitting room in a quiet fury. "Oh, God, what a perverse sense of humor you possess," she raged out loud as she pounded her fist. She managed to still her tongue and curse her misfortune inwardly.

_I would have him; I would have him and enjoy every inch of him, even as I know deep in my heart he would only be a substitute for my beloved, for they do so look alike; I could pretend..._

_And what sort of awful wife would that make me? Why would you, God, throw such a temptation in my face before one who has shown me thus far only the most kind and generous regard? Cesare wants me not, any longer—Bembo would be a most fine morsel to sate me, indeed. How pitiful am I? Every man that I would find interest in—true interest—I measure against the one who wants me not...I am pitiful, indeed._

_So, what must I do? Admit him to my betrothed, who wants not to be made a fool of? Or keep it to myself and succumb not to the one I know who desires me and has no sense of propriety at all, despite his words from before. Pietro would have me, as well, husband or no husband, whether that husband be dead or alive. He is a rogue and I must stay away from him. He means me no good at all if this house knows not of his prior service to me. I will have to admit it to Alfonso. I promised him my honesty. I must at least bring it up, for it could very well be a test upon me. And if I find that it is..._ she fumed. There was a knock at her door and she went angrily to answer it.

"Sister? What is wrong?" asked Gioffre, whose smile faded as soon as he saw the frown upon her face.

"Oh, Gioffre—my love, do come in...it does my heart well to see your sweet face now..." she pulled him into her salon.

"What is it, sister? What is your trouble? Do you not feel well? Is it the baby?"

"No...no, my love, I am fine. What a splendid day we had, yes?"

"Yes, indeed—are you sure you're alright?" He would not be so easily dissuaded from his concern.

"Yes, yes, brother, I promise that I am," she smiled sweetly at him.

"I came to tell you that Alfonso is taking me on the boar hunt tomorrow. I told him that I would tell you—do you mind?"

"No, Gioffre, not at all."

"We would have you come and stay at one of the lodges, but it is rather rustic there, he says, and he feels your comforts would be better met here."

"I would be most inclined to agree, Gioffre; do go and have a wonderful time, I shall be fine here. I can keep to my room, for I need some time alone. And maybe I shall venture out to enjoy the festival for a bit in the early evening, I would ask the Duke to accompany me."

"The Duke may have had his doubts about this marriage before, sis..."

"I'm sure he still does, brother."

"No—the way he looked at you as you watched the concert today—you were clearly, at that moment, a woman after his own heart, believe me, sister."

"There is such humanity in art; if only there was a way to use such magical music to soften the hearts of our embattled Lords, Gioffre; if only such music could rain down from Heaven, over the noble houses of the world; over the hearts of greedy, contentious men who deign to rule it; over the battlefields and the men who fight—and die—for them; unite them under the same effect that caused the Duke to look upon me with favor instead of contempt—wouldn't that be a wonderful thing? I would wish for that. It is a ridiculous wish, I know, but I shall wish it, nevertheless."

"It is a beautiful wish, sister, not ridiculous, at all. Something troubles you, my love—won't you confide in me? I will stay here tomorrow..." he began firmly.

At that moment Gioffre was no longer her little brother; he was a man offering his truest love and concern for her that she easily wanted to sink into.

"My Gioffre, what a fine man you are. You will go on the hunt tomorrow. Pregnancy, that's all it is my love; my emotions are always high at this time, that's all..."

"Always? This is only your second baby, sis..." he raised an eyebrow at her.

"You will hunt tomorrow, Gioffre Borgia, and that is that."

"Alright, Lucrezia, but we shall get you ready for bed then, and talk a bit before you abandon me for sweet slumber—and _that_ is that," he smiled at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gioffre did indeed go on the hunt with Alfonso to the Coparius the next day and Lucrezia did enjoy the festival the following evening on the arm of her future father-in-law. She did not see Pietro again for the rest of her time in Ferrara and began to wonder if he hadn't been but a figment of her imagination; she did mention his service to her in Nepi to Alfonso, who said that he had been aware of it but that Bembo had more dealings with his father than with himself and had no other questions for her about the Cardinal. She still was not convinced that it wasn't a test, but at least her conscience was clear as to the knowledge of their general acquaintance. As to Pietro's affections for her, she said nothing, for nothing truly damning had happened between them and even Bembo would have to attest to her most appropriate behavior toward him if he was to be pressed on the subject.

Lucrezia put him out of her mind and enjoyed the rest of her visit; Alfonso resumed his leisurely tour of the castle and all of their other times spent together were quite chaste and more than properly chaperoned. When the week came to its end she found that she was actually more than a little excited at the thought of returning one day and calling Ferrara home; she thought about how much Giovanni would benefit from growing up there, free to be with her and his sibling, as yet unborn. It gave her comfort to concentrate on that fact. As to Alfonso, she knew only that she wanted to give him her heart, but still, in the deepest recesses of it resided her Cesare, whom she knew that she would have to dispel completely for that to ever happen. After a week with the man all that she could do was hope that she would ever be worthy of his love, honest with herself over the fact that the ease she needed find was within her own self and abilities.

Alfonso could see that there was a weight pressing on her but he did not want to add to it. He didn't want to spoil a moment of their brief time together and could only hope that if there was anything she truly needed to confide in him about that she would have done so by then.

The night before she was to return to Rome they had their first true private moment together; he had taken her back to the Lion's Tower, where the night was mild and pleasant enough to sit out for a while under the stars; they took their seats beside each other on a stone bench.

"So, Lucrezia...our first real moment alone—and last, for a while."

"Yes, Alfonso. I want to thank you for a most wonderful week—I have greatly enjoyed being here with you and I do look forward to coming back as your wife."

"You really mean that," he smiled as he looked into her eyes. "I promise not to read more into that other than what it truly means, Lucrezia, but still, my heart is singing right now."

Lucrezia blushed and bowed her head and then her face grew a slight frown. "I...I know that I haven't been...I..."

"Lucrezia, please don't..." he said softly to her. "I know what a broken heart looks and feels like; a week together will not answer all of the questions we have yet to ask of each other, I know this, as do you; but it has been a blessing, has it not? To have even had this brief time together to determine if you could really go through with this. I was honestly expecting more heartbreak—for myself—by this week's end, Lucrezia, and I would have held you in no less higher esteem had you determined that this is a thing that you truly could not do. It will take time, I am honest with myself about that. And I ever appreciate yours. You have my trust; I realize that I must earn yours; your trust and your love. No...please do not cry..." he wiped a tear gently from the corner of her eye. "May I be so honored as to hold you now, my Lady? Would you take this moment to find a bit of solace in my friendly embrace?" He held his arm out to receive her.

Lucrezia found it easy to yield to him.

"I find your embrace most pleasing, dear Alfonso, thank you."

He nodded at her and they sat in silence for a long while. Finally the air turned a bit chilly.

"Would you like to retire now? The hour is growing late and you have a long ride ahead of you in the morning..."

"Yes, but first, we must answer at least one question of each other, Alfonso, for you must be sure that this is truly a thing that you can do, as well..."

"Oh? And what question is that?"

"This one..." she reached up and took his chin in her hand then placed a sweet kiss upon his lips. "Is your answer still yes, then?" she asked him somberly afterward.

He claimed her lips with his own then and dared to level his deep, hungry kiss upon her that Lucrezia met unabashedly with her own.

"Is _your_ answer still yes?" he asked when their lips parted.

Lucrezia said nothing as she sought his lips out again to confirm that it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Well, Gioffre, this is where we part, my love..." they were only a few miles from the city gates; Gioffre was headed back to Castel Sant'Angelo and Lucrezia was finally heading to convent, where her mother and Giovanni were awaiting her arrival.

"Be well, sister; I shall come back when I hear word from mother that you are within the week of your delivery—I must be home to welcome and hold my new niece or nephew in my arms, yes?"

"Yes, my love, I can't wait to see you again. Thank you, Gioffre, for coming with me, I don't know what I would have done without you."

Gioffre gave the back of her hand sweet kiss and then her cheek. "Come here..." he hugged her then. "Father has done well by you, Lucrezia; Alfonso is a fine man—he will make you happy, of that I have no doubt—he is a man in love, sis."

"And another man would surely know," she smiled at him. Thank you, my love. And I wish you success and happiness in Nepi."

"Thank you, sis. I love you."

"And I, you."

Gioffre exited the carriage and mounted a horse of his own and then was off, followed by five-hundred of their soldiers; the rest flanked Lucrezia and escorted her away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

When Lucrezia arrived at the convent she could not help but to notice that the whole place was abuzz with activity. She met the Father Confessor and he was positively beside himself.

"Welcome, my Lady, it is our pleasure to receive you!"

"Yes, thank you, Father—what is going on here? Certainly it is not my arrival that has everyone so a-twitter, shall we say?"

"Well, my Lady, you are quite the dignitary. Sister Elena, please see to our Lady's carriage and send her things to her rooms...Sister Maria, come with us...my Lady, please follow me?"

"Of course, thank you, Father."

When Lucrezia entered her quarters she knew then what all the fuss below had been about: waiting for her in her rooms was not only her mother and Giovanni, but her father, as well.

"Lucrezia, darling girl, We took the liberty—We hope that you will not be angry at Us?"

"Holy Father—no, I am not angry..." she rushed into his open arms.

"Vannozza, bring yourself and Giovanni here for this most loving reunion..."

Vannozza happily obliged. "My love, I am so glad that you are back home..."

After a time they tore away from each other and Lucrezia took her son into her arms and greeted him with her tears and kisses.

"Dare We ask it, Lucrezia? Was your trip away a success?" Rodrigo had a most genuine look of anxiety on his face at her.

"Holy Father, you and Cesare have outdone yourselves, in every possible sense, and I mean that with great love and kindness."

"Oh! Thank God in His heaven!" Rodrigo clapped his hands together in triumph; he kissed the cross around his neck and offered it up in great thanks. "Our heart soars, at this moment, with the most joyous happiness and relief!"

"And where is my brother? Gone back to knock down more castles?"

"No, not yet; he is at Castel Sant'Angelo still, happily waiting to welcome your brother home," Rodrigo smiled at her.

"You must tell us all about it, my love—we shall come back tomorrow, after you have had some rest?" Vannozza beamed at her.

"Yes, mother, that would be wonderful." Lucrezia was thoroughly annoyed at herself for being both angry and disappointed that Cesare had not come, as well; she asked nothing more of him. "And will you come again tomorrow, Holy Father, to hear me tell my tale of the magnificence that is the city of Ferrara?"

"We shall," he assured her.

"I do not know if this convent can take it, Holy Father—two days a visit from His Holiness, the Pope of Rome? They're already buzzing about downstairs more crazed than your honeybees."

"Well, they shall have to learn to calm themselves, hmm? For We plan to visit as often as circumstances permit and certainly for the birth of Our new grandchild."

"Yes, I suppose they shall."

"But We will leave you now, to settle you and your child in and take your rest; there was simply no way, daughter, that We could have ever let this evening pass without setting eyes upon you and take you in arm..." Rodrigo approached her again for a hug of goodbye.

"And I do love you so, Holy Father," she murmured against his chest as she lost herself in his embrace again.

"Goodnight, my love..." he whispered down at her.

"Goodnight, father," she whispered back up at him.

"We shall see _you_...shortly..." he said to Vannozza with a knowing grin before he took his leave.

"I shall not stay long, my love—only to help you unpack and get this one off to sleep for the night."

"Thank you, mother."

"So, how did you fare, my love?" Vannozza gave a rub to her own belly.

"My body spared me any indignities, I'm happy to say," Lucrezia reported.

"And how do you feel now?"

Sister Elena knocked on the door and then ushered two footmen in with one of Lucrezia's trunks; Vannozza began to unpack it.

"Only a little tired—I would give anything for one of La Bella's exquisite foot rubs."

"Hold up your skirt..."

Lucrezia obliged.

"Off of your feet—this instant," Vannozza ordered her when she saw her daughter's swollen ankles. "My foot rubs are nothing to sneeze at—on the bed, until I can tend to you."

By midnight, Vannozza had organized Lucrezia's room; fed Giovanni his last meal and had gotten him to sleep; seen to Lucrezia's bath; given her a foot rub; shared a light meal with her and tucked her weary daughter into bed as if she was a babe.

"Mother, really..." Lucrezia smiled sleepily up at her from under her cover.

"Enjoy this now, my love, for you are on your own after tonight."

"I do so appreciate you...thank you, dear mother."

"You are most welcomed. Get your rest now; we shall come in time to share supper with you tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes, I cannot wait."

"Sleep well..." Vannozza leaned down and gave her a kiss upon her forehead, but Lucrezia was already asleep. She left the room quietly.

And in her dreams...

_He came to her, silently, bearing his sweetest kisses..._

_Strange...I've never had a dream so clear...so pleasurable...he is always just out of my reach and often has another face...am I dreaming awake? His kiss...so tender...so very sweet...so full of...love...yes, in my dreams he loves me still...why must I wake?_

_She stirred then, groggy and thick-headed; there were two windows in her room but it was a moonless night; she struggled to open her eyes and when she did they were met by an oppressive darkness; a sudden horror came over her as her eyes adjusted and she saw—and felt—a lump beside her in the bed move; a sharp intake of breath indicated that a scream was about to issue forth, but a hand clamped over her mouth and stifled it. She heard the strike of a match, saw it bring a bedside candle to life, and then she saw him clearly._

_This is a dream...a strange and lovely dream..._


	36. A Promise

"This is a dream," she gasped between the few seconds that his hand left her mouth and was replaced with his lips; lips that she yielded to and found familiar; lips which, finally and very reluctantly, released hers.

"Did that feel like a dream, sis? Does this?" he murmured against her throat before he took hold of it roughly and then gave it just the graze of a bite.

"Cesare? What...how..." she struggled to get the words out as well as to free herself from his grip.

"Don't trouble yourself over the what and the how of it—I needed to see you—we need to talk, do we not? Stop it, Lucrezia!" he ordered her angrily through gritted teeth as he easily subdued her struggle against him.

"I am tired of this tactic—I do not appreciate it, at all!" she railed against him.

"Tired? It has been tried before, then, by another who was not myself—who was he! The Duke? Your amorous Cardinal? Who!" he demanded.

"Have you lost your very mind, Cesare?"

"Who was it!"

"Lower your voice before you bring attention to my door," she hissed at him.

"I pay this convent enough to _keep_ attention from your door..." he hissed back at her; Lucrezia recoiled within his grip.

"Let me go, Cesare, I do not want this," she said finally, as her eyes glowered at him in the flickering candlelight.

"That is a lie that I not only see, but can feel, sis..." he leveled at her then as he loosened his grip, but only a little.

"Why do you toy with me, Cesare? You tell me that you love me, no matter what or whom; you betroth me to another and then abandon me to him; you come back to Rome, back to our home, unannounced, and ignore me—the night before I leave to attempt do that which you and father want of me and to reconcile myself to another—rub your abandon in my face—now this? You come to me like a rapist in the night and expect to be received with my open arms? You certainly ask much of me—or do you even know what you are asking of me? Where is your mind? I will not say it again: let me go."

Cesare yanked her so forcefully closer back to him that it took Lucrezia's very breath away and she gasped against him.

"Where is my mind? That is a good question, my love, for I ask it of myself daily...search for the answer in my dreams—dreams, always, filled with you; of you, about you. Where is my mind? Consumed...with guilt; over my own cowardice. Yes, I abandoned you, because I told myself it was the right thing to do to set you toward your truest freedom and on to your life; but that is a lie. I left you the morning Alfonso came to Rome because I could not bear to see his influence upon your sweet face; could not bear to see even a hint of the love you may in time feel for him—not even the contemplation of it! So I ran like a coward, away from you, called it a necessary sacrifice; and all I found was my own crushing heartbreak! That I've managed to think straight enough to command armies and continue my campaign is a miracle in and of itself.

"I came to you last week, came to your very door in the midnight hour, and was too much the coward—still—to move my hand to knock upon it; for, even unbeknownst to you that I was there, I could feel your wrath emanating from your room...palpable...deadly...more frightening than my staunchest enemy or any foe I've faced on a battlefield; so I ran like a coward again, away from you rather than find the light of your love for me extinguished in your eyes...in your heart..."

"So, you come to me like a truer coward, then? A thief in the night who comes to take what he wants under the cover of darkness? We have both done many abominable things, Cesare, but never one against the other—until now. You _will_ unhand me."

Cesare felt the sting of her words as if he had been bitten by a venomous viper and was helpless not to obey her; he released her and rolled away from her.

Lucrezia rose from the bed to light more candles; she went to the adjoining room where Giovanni lay in his crib to make sure that he was undisturbed and found that he was still fast asleep; she tip-toed out and brought the louvered doors quietly shut and returned angrily to her brother, who was sitting then on the edge of the bed and watching her intently; as she reached him he held a tentative hand out to her; she stopped in her tracks and gave him a look of total contempt before she began to pace the floor before him.

"Lucrezia..."

She stopped and faced him again. "Do not speak, Cesare; do not," she warned him as she took to pacing again. "I find it difficult to assemble all of my hurt now into even one cohesive word, let alone a sentence—do you understand me?"

"Lucrezia..."

"Say my name again and I shall scream out, Cesare, I mean it—do not speak," she said through clenched teeth and closed eyes as she stopped pacing again, this time with her back to him.

Behind her Cesare clamped his mouth tightly shut and physically put a hand to it, more than undone and waiting with bated breath to hear what she would finally say to him, fearing that he had lost her for good.

Lucrezia composed herself and finally turned to face him again. She took in the sight of him properly before she spoke, allowing herself just a moment to savor him looking handsome and tantalizing as ever, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his black leather breeches. She comported herself then to say what she needed to say. "I would plunge a dagger into both of our hearts right now if it would end this torment, once and for all, if I did not have a child and this one on the way to love and care for—do not doubt that, Cesare Borgia. But as we are so cursed to live this life as siblings we must make a choice, here and now: to either end this torment or endure it, without spilling blood, either way.

"If you truly mean to seek release for and from me, then you will do it now—tonight—and never come to me again in such a way as this, Cesare..."

Cesare tore his hand away from his mouth and stood to face her, blinking at her through tear-filled eyes as he approached her slowly.

"No—stop there, brother," she ordered him forcefully. "We will see each other one last time at my wedding, but only because decorum will call for it, and then we shall not set eyes upon each other again. We will end this now and face to face."

"Or..." he dared to whisper at her through trembling lips.

"Or? Or..." Lucrezia's resolve wavered and she took a step away from him, in a panic at the thoughts running through her head.

"If I do not choose to release you, sis, what then?" he asked her quietly as began to advance slowly upon her again. "If I choose to love you, as I always have, and never forsake you again..."

"Cesare, please..." she backed away from him.

"If I give up this most foolish and impossible endeavor to release you from my heart...where you ever reside and always will..."

"Do not toy with me, Cesare..." she begged him in a whisper as her own tears began to stream down her face.

"You cannot run from me sis, any better than I have tried to run from you..." Lucrezia turned her back to him and cried audibly as Cesare caught her up and took hold of her heaving shoulders. "No matter where I was or what my task, I tried to escape—into my duties in my waking hours and into nothing during my sleeping ones—and still I only ran into you, always in my waking thoughts and in my dreams; I abandoned you, most assuredly, Lucrezia,with my person, my love—but my heart never did..." he brought her into his embrace and spoke softly into her soft, loose, flowing locks. "Never..."

"What I would do, Cesare..." she gasped through her tears, "what I would do...if you truly meant that..."

"Please tell me that you do not doubt it, sis...would I be here now if I did not? You know the answer to that. Look at me and tell me that you know it..." he turned her gently to face him. "Tell me that you know it..." he murmured as he rested his forehead upon hers, his eyes burning into her own.

"You must never do this to me again, Cesare..."

"Never again, sis..."

"For we are back to our original plan, then, and that changes everything about my trip to Ferrara," she said worriedly, more to herself than to her brother.

"You found your favor with him..." Cesare accused her.

"Only because I thought I had lost yours."

"And did he get his hands on you?"

"Please do not do this..."

"Answer me, sis."

"We shared a kiss, Cesare," she admitted uneasily as she pulled away from him.

"No..." he pulled her back to him. "You enjoyed his kiss?"

"Cesare..."

"Did you?"

"His kiss was not yours, Cesare, do not do this to me."

"And now?"

"And now...and now I will endure whatever I must— _can_ only endure whatever I must—as long as I know that I have your love."

"I'm sorry, sis, please forgive me...I am only a man, after all..." he hugged her to himself in apology.

"Cesare, all of these circumstances and people that keep us away from each other—you must never do this to me again...and you must never doubt my love for you...promise me," she ordered him, even as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I will not ever...I promise..." he said as he slipped her gown delicately away to bare a shoulder and kiss it.

"Cesare, no..." she said uneasily.

He stopped and gave her a questioning look. "He _has_ had an effect upon you, then..."

"No, stop it...it is not that, at all. I am showing now—the baby..." she said awkwardly.

"Ah...you have never been with a loving husband during pregnancy," he gave a teasing smile at her, "therefore you know not that a husband's desire does not wane at such a time."

"And what do you know of being a husband, brother? A question, I'm sure, that your wife must ask daily..." Lucrezia said as she wiped away tears from her cheeks.

"My 'wife' wanted a child more than she wanted a husband—I gave her a child; my 'wife' wanted to stay in Avignon more than she wanted to come to Rome—she is in Avignon; my 'wife' is a beautiful French woman—and not at a loss for handsome lovers, I hear on good authority. Never let it be said that I know not how to husband a wife—even if that wife is one in name only. You are my truest wife; I am your truest husband—you know this."

"Well, this 'wife' is with child, and you know the view of the Church regarding the conjugal bed at such a time, Cesare, regardless of my 'husband's' desire."

"Or your own..." he said as he disengaged from her, took her hand and led her back to the bed where he sat down beside her.

"Cesare, again I ask you, what do you know—"

"You forget that I was once a cleric, my love; I have heard many guilty confessions—from men as well as women—over committing just such a transgression—repeatedly," he chuckled to himself. "It is not unclean and at this time neither is it unsafe, sis."

"But the Church..."

"Damn the Church."

"Cesare!" Lucrezia was completely scandalized.

"The Church says that priests cannot marry; that the Pope should abstain, should have no wife or children—yet here we are, Lucrezia; Rome—the world—is filled with the children of priests and Pope's..." he leaned conspiratorially into her then. "And do you know what else they do, my love?"

"I am afraid to ask."

"They make love on Sunday..." he kissed her hand, "and on feast days..." he traveled it up her arm to her neck, "and all twenty days before Christmas..." he gave a little bite to her neck and then kissed it.

"Imagine that," she replied in a swoon.

"We won't have to imagine it, my love..."

"I'm curious, brother—what penance was required of your guilty flock? The pregnant ones..." she whispered at him as he leaned her back upon the pillows.

"Ah, yes—I told them to say a Hail Mary with every sigh of pleasure and save their confessions for truer sins against Our Lord..."

"You did not!"

"There it is—that smile I so love to see upon your beautiful face," he smiled back at her and his was full of joy. "I have missed it...I have missed you—welcome back to me, sis..." he murmured at her before his lips descended upon hers.


	37. Reconciliation

"Ahh...ahh...Lucrezia..." Cesare moaned, trying desperately to withstand the exquisite torture being visited upon him as quietly as possible, "to think...ahh...yes..." he sucked in a long draught of air through his teeth and held his breath for as long as he dared, until his climax demanded otherwise.

"To think what, my love?" Lucrezia asked as she rose up to look into his eyes with a satisfied smile on her own face.

"To think...that there was once a time when you did not know how to do that..." he said softly.

"All thanks to you, _Il Maestro_...so... still pleases? It has been quite some time since she has had the opportunity to...try her hand?" She gave a little smirk at him that was both bold and shy all at once, and one that he found totally seductive.

"Really?" he gave a little snort as he smiled devilishly back down at her, "That didn't feel like your hand, sis..." He traced the outline of her mouth delicately and as his finger came back to the lusciousness that was her bottom lip Lucrezia seized it with her tongue and then gave it a teasing bite. "You..." he extricated his finger from her reluctant release and pulled her up closer to him, "are _La Novizia_ no more..."

Lucrezia hugged him tighter to her. "All I want is to please you, Cesare..."

"You do that and more, sis..."

"Never deny me the chance to do so when the opportunity presents itself..." she murmured against his warm, broad chest.

Cesare reassured her with a deep, languid kiss and then just held her tightly. "You need to sleep, my love," he told her presently.

"I cannot—I will not—our time together is too short to waste on sleep; it is bad enough that dawn is breaking...you must leave me soon..." she said sadly.

"But not yet; and I would like to see Giovanni's smiling face before I go—and one upon yours, as well, sis."

"And when do you leave Rome again, Cesare? And where to next?"

"Piombino first; Perugia; Camerino; Urbino; but not for another week, my love—a whole blessed week..." he smiled at her.

"And how is it that you may so easily come and go about within and without these walls? More secret passages?"

"Not necessary here, my love—surely you know that this convent is filled with a fine contingent of beautiful noble ladies—beautiful, but without dowries; suitable husbands they cannot secure, but lovers they have in abundance."

"No!"

"Did you not know?"

"I did not..." Lucrezia gave a little guffaw of amazement and pure disbelief.

"A mask, a cloak—the location of your rooms and the proximity to a nearby exit—the foot traffic here does not even cause the blink of an eye, sis, I may come and go as I please. There are many pious ladies here, my love, but there are also just as many that enjoy the married lover here, a little rough trade there..."

"Am I safe here, brother?"

"Of course you are—no, the worst of the incorrigibles will find themselves working a whorehouse soon enough—if they're lucky."

"I had no idea, Cesare," she said then, still quite shocked.

"You have nothing to worry about, my love—no one dares to wish their ill will upon you here, let alone try to carry it out, know that. And I have instructed mother to inform me when you're near time to giving birth, for I will be here with you, sis—nothing will keep me from you on that day, Lucrezia—nothing." The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice was resolute. Just then they heard Giovanni's beginning whimpers coming from his nursery. "And I am being beckoned—come, mama, so that I may give my last kisses to you both..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so the week progressed happily for both of them.

Lucrezia hosted her eager parents the next day to regale them with the tale of how well-received she was as a sovereign lady of the Romagna along the whole of her journey to and from Ferrara; the success she found for herself there, even in spite of the old Duke's initial and apparent skepticism of her; and of the ever-kind and attentive Alfonso, who had more than made her feel confidant that she could one day call his city her home. Her report was a further corroboration of Gioffre's, who had assured his parents that he was more than convinced that his sister was finally destined for a life of true happiness.

Rodrigo and Vannozza had been struck by their daughter's complete turnaround, especially Vannozza, from the heartbreak and torment that had so pervaded her soul before she left; they were content to chalk it up to their answered prayers, alone, and set their excitement and attentions next on the pending birth of their grandchild and preparations for the wedding. Little did they know of the real reason behind their daughter's new-found and abounding joy, which was the reconciliation she was enjoying with her brother.

For his part, Cesare was better-focused on the business at hand in his dealings with his father, who had never been any-the-wiser of his son's previous and private torments. There was Julius Caesar of Varano to deal with, and Rodrigo was also anxious to hear his son's strategies regarding Perugia and the duchy of Urbino. And then there was the Countess of Forli to discuss, whose trial was laboring inconclusively into its six month. Yet, for all of the important matters that comprised his days, Cesare was able to steal away easily each night to find his comfort and joy in Lucrezia, until he left to return to his campaign the following Saturday morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As that week ended and stretched into another, then turned into a new month, and then another month, Lucrezia relived their last time together over and over in her heart and mind; for once in her life, his absence fueled the promise at the joy of his return, instead of the heartbreak and dread their separations had caused her in the past; for never again, and especially after their time spent together at Orsini Palace, had she been able to forget him when he was away.

Lucrezia prayed daily for her brother's success, safety and triumphant return to her; she would thank God always for whatever time they had together and not be so indulgent as to pine for him when he was away; she had his heart and he had hers and that was all that mattered to her. And the child in her womb no longer frightened her: she didn't care if it was wrong or right—if the baby was his all she wanted was for it to be healthy; if God would just see fit to give her that she would be happy for it to be Cesare's and to have a piece of him that no one could ever take away from her.

So, in that happy frame of mind, the months passed quickly for Lucrezia, and the day came, at last, for Vannozza to send word to her sons that their niece or nephew was soon to grace the world.

Gioffre got word and set out immediately with Maria de Mila, who had happily agreed to Gioffre's request to help foster Lucrezia's children in Nepi until they could go to court and join their mother in Ferrara; they would come back again for the wedding and then take charge of the children upon Lucrezia's departure with the Duke.

When Cesare got word he was in Imola, awaiting the aid of more French troops against confederates siding with the Duke of Urbino; it was as good a time as any for him to steal away, for even without the needed arms Urbino was reluctant to move against him; he left Micheletto in charge and assured him that he would not be more than two days in Rome after the birth of the baby and then set off.


	38. Rodrigo

"Holy Father..."

"Ah! Cesare..." Rodrigo was conferencing with Ascanio Sforza when his son burst into his office; he got up from his desk and greeted his son with a warm, happy hug.

"Cardinal Sforza," Cesare greeted him with a nod after his father released him.

"Your Excellence," Ascanio nodded back at him. "Holiness, I shall leave you now. Shall I tell the consistory that the meeting is canceled?"

"Not at all—We will meet with them as scheduled."

"Very good." Ascanio gave a parting nod at them both and made haste away. Cesare and Rodrigo both watched him go and waited for the door to close behind him.

Cesare's head whipped back around to face his father. "She is in labor? How does she fare? Holy Father?"

Rodrigo was still staring after the door that Ascanio has exited out of.

"Holy Father?" Cesare dared to put a hand to his father's shoulder.

"Oh, yes...yes..." Rodrigo faced his son with a happy smile. "Yes, she is in labor—We know not how she fares, We've had no other word since this morning."

"Are you alright? What is this meeting about that the consistory would trouble you with at this time?"

"It is a scheduled meeting, Cesare, that We must keep; it concerns the Countess of Forli—was it really necessary to kill her assassin? Water under the bridge, now, but We know that her plots against Us were many and most tangible—it would have been nice to have had proof!" Rodrigo's tone and countenance had turned quite harsh.

Cesare bristled at his father's angry complaint. "I'm afraid that it was unavoidable, Holy Father—he did release the woman from her confinement," he lied, " and I regret that his punishment was so swift, but upon his capture it quickly became a matter of either his life or my Captain's—the outcome of which I will never apologize for." Cesare's voice was as firm as his stance was bold as he stared his father down.

"Argh!" Rodrigo turned away from him, went back to his desk and sat down heavily in his seat. "Argh!" he exclaimed again as he pounded the desk with his fist in great disgust.

Cesare stood silent. It had been unavoidable, for at that time what Cesare had cared most about was making sure that Rufio would never utter his tale of the conditions of his hire or the happenings at Orsini Palace, for he truly had known much too much. The secrets laid to rest with Rufio were far more beneficial to Cesare than the truths he could have confessed to regarding the murder plots ordered by the Countess and carried out by his own hand. His testimony would have been tainted, under the spectre of the torture that would have been necessary to level upon him to give it; and he would have never given his lady up, in any event. His confession would have been viewed as a sure by-product of coercion and no one would have truly been confident of a conviction against the Lady. Either way he would have been killed. And nothing regarding him had been worth the risk of his father finding out the truth—about Cesare's plan to kill the Prince and especially about the state of affairs between him and Lucrezia.

All of those thoughts and more occupied his mind as he waited on his father—who was at that moment hunched over his desk, rubbing viciously at his temples to try and dispel a headache—to speak his next words.

"Ah...We suppose that it matters not..." Rodrigo grumbled to himself. "You are making excellent progress, your duchy is ever-expanding—We must let her go."

"And when will you do that?"

"We shall tell the consistory that one more attempt shall be made at trial; it will yield what all proceedings have thus far yielded—nothing; We shall set her free before your sister's nuptials—We would like to enjoy the wedding without the pall of her imprisonment hanging over Our head still, hmm? Before Christmas—good public relations, and all of that..." Rodrigo said with a perturbed toss of his hand.

"Indeed," Cesare agreed with him tersely.

"How are things going with da Vinci?" he asked his son then.

Cesare was relieved to have something more pleasant to talk about and his own anger abated a bit. "Very well...he is almost finished with a most magnificent new map, of the Val di Chiana; it will greatly help me to achieve the best possible strategic positioning; he is also planning to construct a dam, from the sea to Florence—"

"What is this, now? A dam?"

"Yes..." Cesare gave a triumphant little guffaw, "it will sustain the canal and allow the supply of water during all seasons."

Rodrigo was visibly impressed. "Amazing."

"Yes, he is a wonder—to watch him work is a thing of art in and of itself."

"We are sure."

"Is everyone here?"

"Yes..." Rodrigo answered him absently, his mind split in a thousand different directions.

"Holy Father?"

"Yes—they are all at the convent now: your mother; Gioffre and Maria de Mila; La Bella is here, as well...go on and join them, We shall be along shortly, Cesare."

"Yes, Holy Father." Cesare turned to go.

"Cesare—"

Cesare stopped in his tracks at his father's commanding voice; he turned back to face him in silent question.

"How long will you be here?"

"Only two more days, Holy Father."

"Good—that will give Us enough time to discuss other matters with you. Very well, go on, they are all waiting for you."

Cesare gave a final bow at his father and departed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's a boy! It's a boy!" the midwife sang out at Maria de Mila, Miracella, who was holding a very fretful Giovanni, and the anxious men waiting in the anteroom to Lucrezia's birthing room. "Seven pounds, he is—and a tall one he's going to be—twenty-one and half inches! Mother and baby are fine and she wants to see you all now! Come on, then..." she waved excitedly at them, "come!"

Rodrigo had indeed kept his appointment with the consistory and managed to get away from them in time to be there for the birth; he led the group in followed by Cesare, Gioffre, Miracella and Giovanni, then Maria.

The babe was already cleaned and wrapped in his swaddling and was lovingly ensconced in the arms of his tired mother. On one side of her bed stood her mother and on the other, Giulia Capece.

"Our sweet, darling daughter..." Rodrigo cooed as he approached her, taking his side by Vannozza, "thank God above and congratulations—he is most handsome," he beamed down at her as he came in for a loving kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you, Holy Father."

Rodrigo gave a happy kiss to Vannozza's cheek as well and then smiled his greeting across the bed at Giulia, whom he hadn't seen upon her arrival in Rome. "La Bella—hello to you, dear Lady, and thank you for being here," he told her sincerely.

"Your Holiness..." she gave a little curtsey at him, "I would not have missed this for the world. Congratulations—he is beautiful," she smiled back at him.

Rodrigo nodded his thanks at her. "And what is this strapping young man's name to be, then?" he asked Lucrezia.

"Rodrigo, Holy Father," Lucrezia smiled at him.

"Ah,well, We like that!" he said proudly as he looked around at every happy face in the room; everyone gave their happy chuckles. Lucrezia's eyes darted over to Miracella, who was struggling with a fidgety and very fussy Giovanni. "Giovanni, my love...Giovanni?" she called sweetly to him, "mama has not forgotten you..." Her words did not comfort him and the boy answered with unhappy tears as he bawled his complaint at her.

"Oh, my Giovanni..." she cooed his way, her heart breaking for him.

"Ah—someone is unhappy to know that he must must now fight for his mother's attentions forever more..." joked Gioffre; everyone turned their attention to Lucrezia's firstborn, which only fueled his upset.

_Welcome to my world, little nephew_ , Cesare empathized silently with him; he walked over to Miracella and took him in hand. After a time he was able to comfort the child down to quiet little whimpers as he buried his face in his uncle's chest.

Lucrezia mouthed a silent thank you to her brother.

Rodrigo smiled at Cesare, as well, then turned his attention back to his daughter. "Well now—may We have the honor?" he asked as he held out his arms.

"Of course, Holy Father..." Lucrezia passed the baby gingerly to Vannozza who passed him to Rodrigo.

"Ah...there now...welcome to the world, little Rodrigo..." he said softly to the babe. "No offense to your dearly beloved and late Prince, Lucrezia, but this boy is Borgia through and through..." he said happily, never taking his eyes away from the baby's drowsy ones.

Cesare and Lucrezia stole furtive looks at one another.

"Oh, Holiness, please—you have said that of all of your children and grand-children—do you not see Alfonso, as well? Look at all of that hair upon his head..." Vannozza chided him playfully.

"Cesare had a head full of hair as a newborn," he reminded her in his defense. "And look at that nose—that is my nose..."

"I certainly hope not," Vannozza joked him, "no one wants _that_ nose."

"You wanted this nose—and everything else attached to it," he reprimanded her gruffly as he looked his playful insult at her from the corner of his eye.

Everyone in the room laughed at their little exchange—except Lucrezia, who was doing well to mask her truest anxiety; and Cesare, who had retreated to the back of the room with Giovanni out of everyone's sight.

Just then there was a knock upon the door; the midwife answered it and took a sealed note from a nun for the Pope before she closed it again.

"Your Holiness? For you...from the Vatican..." she said as she approached him with the note.

"Here—may I?" asked Gioffre who took his nephew then so that his father could read his missive. "Hello, little nephew, I am your uncle Gioffre...I would love to have a couple of these," he said to no one in particular.

"You find a way to make me your wife and I will give you all of those that you desire..." Maria said then before she could catch herself. Miracella's mouth shot open, aghast at the woman, who looked so sweet and innocent, but whose remark was practically a wish for the death of Sancia—the only way Gioffre would ever be free of his wife.

Gioffre ignored her and continued to engage his nephew.

"What a fine Borgia she shall make should God destine it to be so, hmm?" Lucrezia remarked quietly to her mother and Giulia, who gave amused looks at one another as they both stifled their chuckles. Vannozza gave a light swat to Lucrezia's arm but said nothing.

Rodrigo read his note and then gave a sigh of annoyance; he had not even heard Maria's remark. "We must go, family—duty calls..."

"What do they want, now?" Vannozza was unable to check her contempt.

"Ah—none of that..." Rodrigo commanded her. "Enjoy yourselves, please...We will see the rest of you later this evening—Lucrezia..." he went to her and gave her a warm hug and kiss, "get your rest and We shall have a longer visit tomorrow, hmm?"

"Yes, Holy Father, I look most forward to it."

Rodrigo gave her another loving kiss. He went to Rodrigo in Gioffre's arms and gave the babe a delicate kiss to the top of his head. "Bless you, my child, In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti..." he murmured at him. Next he went to Giovanni, who had found some solace in Cesare's protective arms. "Giovanni? Giovanni, that is your brother, there—go and make your acquaintance, he so wants to meet you..." he cooed at the boy as he nodded at Cesare to walk him over to Gioffre.

Rodrigo watched as the the two grown brothers introduced their nephews to one another and wished that Pinturicchio was in the room so that he could capture the moment and put it to canvas, for it was touching enough that a happy little tear came to his eye. Suddenly his Juan came full-blown into his mind and his absence hit Rodrigo like a thunderbolt to his heart; his happy tear was joined by sad ones and he made haste away—before he could make a spectacle of himself—relieved that everyone's attentions were firmly rooted enough on the children that they did not notice his leaving.

Not long after Rodrigo's departure everyone else took theirs, as well, for Lucrezia was tired and needed her rest. Cesare was forced to leave also, but Lucrezia knew that he would come back to her privately later. When he kissed her goodbye he said no words, only smiled his relief that she and the baby were fine and then was gone.

After a visit with Giovanni alone to reassure him of her love, Lucrezia released him to Miracella's charge; Vannozza took Rodrigo away and Lucrezia was transferred back to her room where Giulia sat with her a few moments longer.

"My love, well done—he is a wonder. Alfonso would have been so proud."

Lucrezia gave her a wan little smile of thanks.

"Yes, you are tired, I will go..."

"No, La Bella, not yet. How are you? Why didn't you bring Laura?"

"Oh, Lucrezia! She looks so like her father even though my husband thinks that she is my surest twin—I did not want to take the chance..." Giulia said uneasily.

"Will you never tell him?"

"I will...someday, my love...the time is not now."

Lucrezia nodded her understanding.

"You really must take your rest, my love—I will see you in the morning," Giulia reassured her; the two friends hugged and kissed each other good night and as soon as Lucrezia's head hit her pillow she dropped off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare did not come to her that night for he knew that she was exhausted. He spent the evening in the happy, though distracted, company of his family back at Castel Sant'Angelo and took to his own bed by midnight although sleep refused to visit him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon Lucrezia was much rested and received her family for another happy visit, except for her father, who had pressing business at the Vatican and would join them later. She noted with amusement that Giovanni's truest curiosity had finally gotten the better of him; after many furtive trips to spy on little bundle that everyone was making so much ado over, whichever arms Rodrigo happened to be held in, Giovanni grew bored enough, at last, to content himself to playing with his toys on the pallet at his mother's feet.

As Vannozza, Gioffre, Maria,Cesare and Giulia all sat about her, enjoying refreshments and happy conversation, talk soon turned back again to the newborn Rodrigo, nestled in Vannozza arms.

"Mother, what were we like as babies?" Lucrezia asked Vannozza after a time.

"Ah! Little wonders, each of you! All so different, such unique temperaments, even in the crib. Lucrezia, Giovanni was as you and Gioffre were as newborns: little cherubs with fat, rosy cheeks; always so easily contented. You see how Giovanni sits on his pallet there? All bow-legged and plump?" she chuckled, "You and Gioffre were the same, but Gioffre lost his baby fat as soon as he started to walk; Lucrezia you were still a plump little thing well after your toddler years. And Juan...my sweet, angelic little Juan...he was fussy as a babe and much like he was as a grown man—greedy for the breast..." she let out a little sigh as she looked up and far beyond the babe in her arms.

"My sweet Juan; beautiful brown eyes that twinkled so that I could almost hear music; his smile could light up a room and he had the most infectious giggle as a little boy, so full of joy and delight..." Vannozza was lost in a happy memory.

"And what of Cesare, mother?" Lucrezia asked her delicately.

"Oh...my rough-and-tumble Cesare..." she looked over at him then. "Night was day and day was night—my first born! You wore me out—I thought I would never know sleep again! Not on a normal schedule, anyway. My Cesare—sleep was something to fight, and fight it you did, like the little warrior that you were and the great one you have become..."

Cesare only gave a quiet little harrumph at her.

"As a newborn, mother? Gioffre and I were plump morsels of baby fat; Juan was an angel with melodious eyes—what of Cesare, aside from his campaign against sleep?"

"Ah...Cesare...as an infant...he had his father's hands and feet; when the midwife brought him to me he had his big hand at his brow as if the weight of the world was already on his shoulders; I said, 'Oh, what little man is this that comes to me now?' It almost broke my heart, how serious he was! And a shock of dark curls—he was a hairy little thing!" she chuckled to herself.

Lucrezia and Cesare shot each other a quick and worried glance.

"Hairy? Just the hair on his head, of course..." Lucrezia ventured.

"No, all over...a fine little fuzz. It dropped away over time—you've not even hair on your chest now, have you, Cesare? Just that fine little strip of fuzz under your belly button, yes?"

Cesare looked at her, his awkwardness more than apparent.

"Oh, don't look at me that way—I'm your mother—I know every inch of skin on the lot of you," she laughed at him. Gioffre is bare-chested, as well; Juan was like his father, hairy-chested." Rodrigo began to whimper. "Lucrezia—it is time for a feeding, my love..." Lucrezia got up and took the baby from her mother. "I do wish that I could set eyes on your Louise, Cesare—have you had word from Charlotte at all? Have you any plans to visit her in Avignon soon?"

Cesare gave an uncomfortable look at his mother; by the flare of his nostrils Lucrezia could tell that their mother's inquiry was a most unwelcomed one; he was about to say something caustic, she was sure, and Lucrezia interrupted him before he could get out any words. "Everyone, please excuse us—Cesare, would you help me to the other room?"

He said nothing as he escorted her out; the rest of the group resumed their happy, animated conversation.

He closed the door to the nursery behind them and then barred entry against it with his body; he watched his sister take her seat and then uncover herself to feed her son.

"I envy him..." he sighed at her.

"Shh...lower your voice—you did not come to me last night..." she whispered at him.

"You were so tired, my love—it would have been useless trying to talk to you last night, I know it," he whispered back.

"Will you come tonight?"

"Will you be awake, is more the question..." he laughed softly.

"I will make a point of it if you tell me that you are coming...I just need a moment alone with you, I know you will be leaving soon."

"Yes, I will come. So..." he walked over to her and knelt down on one knee before her, "we shall have to wait still and see if this one's peach fuzz falls away—as did mine—or if he shall grow up to be like your hirsute Alfonso, hmm?" he raised an eyebrow as he smiled at her.

"So it seems, brother..." she said softly as she looked down at her beautiful boy.


	39. Lest We Wake The Children

"Mama..."

Lucrezia had opened her door in answer to the knock upon it to find her brother leaning against the frame in easy repose, cloaked, hooded and masked, with a warm smile upon his face and his warmer greeting at her; she dared to reach out and push the mask up to his forehead. "Could you be papa?" She smiled her question at him as she brushed a few wayward locks away from his face and then held his cheek in her palm.

Cesare took her palm into one of his own and kissed it. "Would it not be nice..." he gave a contemplative harrumph then took a tendril of her hair and concentrated his attention on the soft curl as he twirled it about his finger, "...if I was? In another world...in another lifetime—I am, I think..." he murmured his wish at her and then looked into her eyes.

"Come in, before you are seen..." she pulled him in gently by the arm and quietly closed the door behind them.

"So...everyone is dismissed, then? We will be left alone?"

"Yes, brother, except for Giovanni—he is like you—ever at war with sleep," she chuckled. Just then Giovanni toddled out of the nursery; upon seeing his uncle he erupted into happy laughter and ran to him.

"Giovanni!" Cesare squatted down to receive his nephew with open arms and scooped him up; Giovanni squealed with delight as he wrapped his little arms about his uncle's neck and gave a wet, messy kiss to his cheek. "A kiss to treasure, most certainly," Cesare hugged the boy tightly.

"A kiss that requires a kerchief, I hazard to say—Giovanni where are your manners?" Lucrezia playfully scolded him as she produced one from her robe pocket and dabbed at Cesare's cheek. "Excuse him, uncle, he is cutting a new tooth, to be fair..."

"I hope the worst of it is over for him?" Cesare asked with great concern.

"Oh, yes—it has broken through the gum—see it there? In the back..."

Cesare looked through the boy's smiling open mouth. "Ah...yes, I see it...congratulations, nephew, quite a nice set coming in—you can kiss gruel goodbye, I'm sure..." Giovanni became shy suddenly under the their scrutiny and, holding fast to Cesare's neck buried his head in the crook of it. "Giovanni—you are a Borgia—you must get used to attention," Cesare chided him lovingly as he rocked the boy gently.

Cesare was more thankful than words would ever have been able to describe for the love of his sister; on a whole other level was the love he felt for his nephew, for there was no honor greater than the unconditional love of a child. He would always feel love for the boy, as if he was his very own; and now there was another son, of whom the actual claim might well be even truer. His thoughts then went to his own children: his one legitimate daughter, Louise, and several others who had been brought to his attention over the years.

Their announcements had usually come by the way of cautious emissaries, trembling in their very boots as they waited for audience; brothers, male cousins, and the like, of this woman or that, all with the same tentative message: that a child had been born and was Borgia. Then the request for suitable arrangements; recognition; a stipend; from the truly bold a bit of blackmail thrown in for good measure. Cesare had laughed at them one and all, and sent them away with nothing—when he had been at his most generous; for as many that he had sent away with curses, a good whipping and a hard bootheel to the arse, there were more that never returned to their charges at all—the Tiber was such a hungry river and Micheletto had been happy to feed it for him.

All such contacts had occurred during his earliest years in the Curia, at the behest of many of the same women Lucrezia had spied on him with as a young girl. He had only vaguely taken note of the childrens' names: Girolamo this; Camilla that—even one bold woman, whose name brought not even an image to his mind, that had the gall to name her daughter Lucrezia. That nervous emissary he had run right through personally, having ambushed the man on his way from the tavern to his horse for his disappointing ride back to whatever hellhole he had come from. Lucrezia, indeed.

He did not regret Louise very much; she was with her mother, more than loved and safe—safe from Rome—safe from him and all of those that would harm her because of him. He did not regret his bastards at all, if his bastards they truly were; they would lead other lives, happier lives, he hoped, also far removed from the treachery and danger that the life of a Borgia most certainly entailed. No, there was no time for bastards—he had his hands more than full enough protecting his real family, including the two boys that belonged to his sister—his truest sons that he would die for if circumstances ever dictated. He sealed his silent vow to Giovanni with another hug.

"How is the little one?" he asked of his sister then.

"Fast asleep—he is not at war with Somnus, thank God—at least, not yet. Come...sit down and take your comfort, brother..." They took to the modestly appointed divan and sat with Giovanni between them, who was happily comforted and occupied with a colorful little paper pinwheel.

"That doesn't look like much fun," Cesare whispered at Lucrezia.

"He enjoys it well-enough and shall have to—he would wake the whole convent with his rattle, otherwise; he shall grow tired soon, he's been up most of the day," she whispered back. "How goes your current campaign, Cesare?"

"Ah...I have made great progress, but Urbino will take some time. I am happy to report to you that your Lady, the one you admire so much—"

"The Countess of Forli?"

"The one and only..."

"What of her?"

"She shall be released before your wedding."

"Father has had a change of heart at last?"

"Not really; he would keep her incarcerated forever, on general principle, for all of her plots against us, but he has no proof and no right to hold her any longer."

"I shall be happy for her when she is reunited with her children—no woman should ever have to suffer that. I am glad that he has come to his senses over her, at last."

"French intervention has more to do with it, I hazard to say; he will grumble through his explanation and speak grandly of presenting a compassionate face to the people; hide behind an endeavor of strategic public relations—but you can thank Yves d'Allegre, who is calling for her release on behalf of King Louis."

"Yes, Naples does so hate us. And still you trust this King?"

"He has done right by me so far, Lucrezia, a tide that can change easily with the wind, I know; but worry not, sis, I am making my way even as I ever watch my back. Look...he has given it up, at last..." he said then of Giovanni, sleeping peacefully with his head resting on the lap of his mother. "Let me tuck him in..."

Cesare took Giovanni to the nursery, settled him peacefully in his crib and left him with a ginger kiss to the forehead; he peeked in on Rodrigo and found him dreaming, he hoped, the dreams of the little angel that he was. He left them, only closing the door a little way so that they could be heard when they would most assuredly awaken.

He came back to find Lucrezia lost deep in thought and pacing the floor; he hung back quietly at the door and watched her.

_I have no one to talk to about us; no outlet for my frustrations—my worries...how cruel is it that I can confide anything to my brother—only to my brother—who is yet so unavailable to unburden myself to? And that soon, although I will have Alfonso to confide in, my truest feelings will only hurt him. I promised not to lie to him, and so far I have not. And as good and wonderful a man as he seems to be, and for all that he would do to make me happy there is the one thing that he can never do—I just fear that I will not be able to hold my end of my bargain with him._

_If only I had someone else to talk to...someone that I could trust, but there is no such person. Only Cesare...and to unburden myself would be to burden him. I cannot talk to mother; not to La Bella; I cannot keep a diary, for diaries beg for discovery and violation, neither of which I dare to risk. In a few months I shall be separated from my children—and for how long, actually? I do not know..._

"What is it, sis?" His tone was stern and jarring. Lucrezia turned to face him.

"Do not frown at me that way, brother, it is nothing, really..."

Cesare only continued to glare at her. "You truly are a bad liar."

"I do not disagree, brother, but I do not wish to trouble you with—"

"Out with it, sis..." he ordered her.

She took his hand and made to go toward the bed. Cesare stopped her abruptly.

"No—it is too soon, surely..." he began awkwardly, as a worried look grew immediately upon his face.

"I only want to feel you beside me, brother—will you deny me?"

The features on his face softened at her. "Of course not." He led her on to the bed. "Settle yourself, then..." He removed her robe to reveal her simple cotton chemise, then raised an appreciative eyebrow at her. "This is different..." He traced the plunging neckline with the back of his hand, then began again at her shoulder and trailed it all the way down the elegant, fitted sleeve, ending his journey with her graceful hand captured again into his own.

"Do you like it?"

"Very much...wherever did this come from?"

"Miracella has been experimenting—the woman has an eye for design, I do believe; she's been working miracles with her needle and thread for Giovanni all these years and has now graduated to me," Lucrezia smiled coyly at him, "I am her fashion guinea pig, it seems."

"Then I shall thank her with a smile when I see her again, even though she'll know not why."

"Oh no, don't do that," Lucrezia laughed softly, "I think a smile from you would be more terrifying than your usual scowl, which she has grown most accustomed to—she would faint dead away and Giovanni and I both would be finished, brother," she joked him.

"Well...we can't have that..." Cesare pulled her closer into him. "This might not be wise, sis..." his soft voice alone was a caress upon her that set her pulse racing and caused a rush of more dangerous feelings to wash through her very soul.

"Of course it isn't...but we have no choice other than to control ourselves..." Lucrezia gasped at him, "You...shall strip naked..." she began to undo the stays on his doublet, "I shall remain in my fine cotton prison...and you will hold me, Cesare...close and dear," she murmured at him through closed eyes. "Oh..." she moaned as he gave a little tug of the handful of hair in his grasp then; he pulled her head gently back and visited his first love bite upon her neck.

"Come on then...into bed with you..." he sighed as he rested his forehead upon hers. "Top marks, my love, for trying to distract me from your trouble—you _will_ talk to me." It was a firm order.

Lucrezia got into the bed and stretched out on her side; resting her head upon her hand she watched him intently as he undressed, waiting for him to join her; finally he was done and before her, mirroring her repose at her.

"Alright, I'm waiting, sis."

"Are you?" she gave a teasing pout at him. "So serious..." she reached out and gave his nose a playful tweak, which made him erupt in an involuntary chortle.

"Stop it—what's gotten into you?" he gave a light swat at her offending hand and tried to compose himself.

"Suddenly I find that I'm positively giddy, brother, just from your very presence. I simply want to enjoy this." Her smile at him was infectious.

"Is that so?" he smiled back at her. "And what is it that you enjoy so much, my Lady?"

"Ah...this smile..." she traced his lips with her finger, "your tender touch; the heat from your body that warms me better than any quilt; your smell..."

"My smell?" he gave an indignant chuckle, "I had a bath before I came here..."

"Yes, and you smell of Castille soap and...and..." Lucrezia could not contain her giggle.

"And what, you imp..." he chuckled his question at her.

"And Luis..." she laughed out loud then.

"My horse? My horse? You..." Cesare scooped her up roughly and turned her back to him, then held her tightly. "And quiet yourself before you wake the children..." he scolded her playfully through a whisper as he nuzzled into her more.

_Before you wake the children...oh, how lovely is that? How mundane and so very lovely..._ Lucrezia lost herself then in the feel of his strong arms about her as her mind went suddenly to the old dangerous "What If" game they used to torture each other with: _what if we were not brother and sister? What if we could escape, start our lives anew and unknown? What if, what if, what if..._

Lucrezia refused to let melancholy come in and take over her joy; she banished those thoughts from her head and concentrated on the moment at hand.

"I have said goodbye to Gioffre, mother and father; when I leave in the morning I'll be heading straight away back to Imola; I most likely will not have the chance to come back to Rome before the wedding, my love...will you not talk to me?" he tried again to draw her out.

"Mmm...hush now, Cesare, I love you; to fall asleep in your arms is everything that I desire at this moment...no more talking," she ordered him drowsily.


	40. Reconciliation Part 2

The next day Lucrezia received a visit from her father, who had come early to break fast with her and the children.

"Mother could not come with you, father?" she asked him from across the little table housed in the corner of her sitting room. "Giovanni, just two more spoonfuls, do not be difficult," she pleaded with her squirming, unhappy boy.

"Giovanni—" came his grandfather's commanding voice; Giovanni froze in his mother's lap then dared to look over at him; Rodrigo was holding little Rodrigo and looked up at his oldest grandson with his eyes only, his brows raised high in reprimand. "That's enough, now—do as you mother says...two more spoonfuls, like a good boy..." he gave a slow nod at the boy. "Your mother is coming later, my love," he informed her as he went back to gazing at little Rodrigo.

Lucrezia gave a little sigh of frustration as Giovanni finished his bowl of porridge. "Of course he responds to you...that's it, Giovanni, very good..." She wiped his mouth clean then set him down on the floor to his freedom, where he took off like the shot of an arrow to his his pallet of toys in the other room.

"What?" Rodrigo shot his glance at her then.

"Nothing, father, only the male prerogative..." she sighed disgustedly.

"Are you having problems disciplining the boy?"

"Lately, yes; but it seems that all I really need is a deep voice and a male member and all of my troubles would be solved." She rose angrily from her seat and began to clear the table.

"Lucrezia, you didn't eat a thing, my love..."

"I have no appetite," she said angrily as she set the dishes on a tray.

"Your mother had no problems disciplining you or your brothers—you must take a firmer hand with him, Lucrezia, that is all—it starts with your voice; a child picks up on a parent's reticence and takes immediate hold upon it, then wields it back at you as if it is a sword of sure vengeance—you must nip that in the bud..." Rodrigo raised a hand and gave a decisive snip at the air with scissored fingers.

Lucrezia only pouted as she took the tray to the door and set it on a stand outside and next to it. When she came back to her father she saw that little Rodrigo was fast asleep.

"Here, father, Giovanni is making such a racket...let me take him to—"

"No, my love—if you truly want him to sleep he must become accustomed to a little noise—you put him in his quiet crib now and he will wake right back up, I guarantee it. You have two children, now—"

"Am I to receive child-rearing advice for the whole of your visit today?" she cut him off irritatedly.

"You mark my words—as soon as this one is able to sit up he will begin to boss his older brother about with remarkable acumen—that is how it was with Juan and Cesare," he chuckled at her.

"Too bad Juan was unable to retain that talent as a grown man," she sniffed at him.

"Lucrezia, that is most cruel and so unlike you...I am simply saying that you will have two rough-and-tumble boys on your hands—the peace you had with Giovanni is over now, my love," he defended himself softly.

"I've never had peace with Giovanni, father," she snapped back at him.

Her anger sobered Rodrigo even more than her previous barb at her late brother. "Lucrezia...what is it that troubles you, my love? Are you still angry at me? I thought that we were past that."

"Do you really desire to have this conversation now?" she nodded at her son in his arms.

"I tell you if you put him down now he will awaken, so yes, my love, I do."

She took a deep breath and then expelled it upon a heavy sigh. "Alright...alright..." she began to pace the floor before him, one hand on her hip, the other at her temple as she looked angrily down at the floor. "You have had some reckoning with Cesare; he has not spoken of it to me, but I noticed it straight away before he left to conquer Forli; it was more than just your final resolve to give him command of your army at last—something else transpired between the two of you, something deeper; you are both changed, father; on the surface you are both the same—it is still obvious that you butt heads; the old tension is still there but it is tempered by something different, now; something far less volatile...less explosive. It is a joy to behold the two of you together now. But I only behold it, father.

"And then there is Gioffre, who has ever been—dare I say it?"

"Say it, daughter," he commanded her softly.

"An afterthought to you; a pawn, like me..."

"Lucrezia..."

"A pawn. Like me. And now I can behold a change in the two of you, as well—he has your respect, at last. And about time."

"Lucrezia..."

Lucrezia stopped and faced her father with her eyes were clinched tightly shut; she took another deep breath before she opened them and spoke again. "I know that you love me, father, but I would like for us to come to some, truce, as well."

"Are we at war, my love?" he asked her sadly.

"We have been at war, father, ever since I became marriageable."

Rodrigo gave his daughter a look of guilty recognition. "Tell me what I can do to help us achieve this truce, Lucrezia, for that is my desire, as well," he said simply.

"I am to be separated from my children soon—this is not meant as a reproach or a criticism of the man you have betrothed me to, please understand that—what I need to know now is how long, father? How long will it take to work out the necessary arrangements before they will join me again? I must know a date...a time frame. Alfonso d'Este appears to be an honorable man; I actually look forward to returning to Ferrara, I can admit that easily to you; but my truest happiness will be as complete as it can possibly be when my children are returned to me. You sit there now, unwilling to let the babe out of your sight for a nap—imagine what I feel, father, at the prospect of being without them both—in the loving care of my brother, yes—but far away in Nepi."

"I don't have to imagine, Lucrezia, your pain is my pain."

"Is it? Is it really? Forgive me, father, but I do not see how that can be. You have no Godly idea of all of my pain."

"Then enlighten me, child!" he begged her, his voice full of gruff desperation.

Lucrezia turned away from him.

_If only I could, father. And how many different ways would it kill you?_

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia, I will put the baby down—please...join me on the divan when I return? Lucrezia?"

"Yes, father...I will join you." Her back was still turned to him; through her soft sniffles she wiped furiously at her wet cheeks with the backs of her hands. When she finally went to the other room her father was waiting for her. Sitting cross-legged on the floor before his grandson, engaged in quite the one-sided conversation, Rodrigo listened intently to Giovanni's little diatribe concerning the wooden block in his hand, which was far too emphatic to be called gibberish.

"I am learning quite a bit about this block, Lucrezia," Rodrigo whispered at her from one side of his mouth, then dared to turn and look at her; suddenly he felt Giovanni's warm little palm upon his cheek, turning his grandfather's face and attention back to him. Rodrigo erupted in amazed, happy laughter. "I'm sorry, Giovanni, you were saying?"

Lucrezia smiled her amusement at them as she took her seat. At last Rodrigo was dismissed with a happy kiss to his cheek before Giovanni let loose the same lecture upon his little stuffed teddy bear.

"Good Heavens!" Rodrigo was still chuckling to himself as he got up from the floor and joined his daughter.

"It is a ploy, father, to stave off sleep—he becomes very vocal when Nana Bobo comes to call," she explained to him.

"Ah...smart boy."

"Tired boy, is more like it."

Rodrigo got more comfortable on the divan as he turned to face his daughter; he clasped both of her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

"First, let me tell you honestly that it may take as long as six months before I can reasonably arrange for the children to come to court, Lucrezia; there are legalities, other arrangements to be made, you understand, certainly, yes?"

"Of course, father."

"If I can shorten that time I will, but if it happens to take longer you must not hold it against me as a plot against you, hmm?"

"I will not. I just needed to know..."

"I do understand. You will be busy as well, my love—your travels will take you to Mantua, amongst other places, in your official capacity as the Duchess of Ferrara...the children would had to have been accommodated otherwise, in any event. And lest you not forget that you must also have a little time to bond with your husband..." he reminded her delicately.

"I can bond very well with my husband with my children present, father," she snapped again at him.

"I thought that we were working out a truce, my love."

"I'm sorry, father..." she apologized in earnest.

"I understand, my love, truly I do, you need not apologize. Now, I feel a great need to apologize to you, Lucrezia. You have witnessed a great change in me, my love; what you behold between Cesare and myself is simply love—a love that I denied him most of his very life."

"I don't believe that—you love us all, father...that has never been at question..."

"My greatest sin as an imperfect man, Lucrezia."

"Father, really..." she gave an incredulous little snort at him.

"No...no, hear me out, please. Men, Lucrezia, are fools; fathers are arrogant fools. Because the worst of us never practice what mothers know best: you must never have favorites amongst your children. Never. For mothers that is an impossible thing, anyway. For what mothers know is that the capacity to love is boundless—should be boundless. Arrogant fathers, such as myself, learn that the hard way. Do you understand what I'm getting at?"

"Of course, we all knew that Juan was your favorite, father, you never made it a secret."

"And it was so wrong of me, Lucrezia...unforgivable, really."

"Father..."

"No. What a mother knows is that you love all of your children, the same and just as fiercely... _but that they each have different needs_. I saw that knowledge in you, with Giovanni after Rodrigo was born; because instinctively it was—and is— impossible for you to do otherwise; he needed you differently and you met that need.

"Now, when it's done as it is supposed to be done, the small child may say: "Mama, you favor him over me!" But the grown child will know that was far from the truth.

"Juan was my favorite child; my favorite son. And my biggest disappoint, Lucrezia. And when I look to the reason as to why, the answer always greets me in the mirror."

Lucrezia was visibly shocked at her father's candor.

"I know that Cesare killed his brother. And I know, the whole of his time spent 'looking' for the killer, you knew it, as well."

"Oh! Father...I...I..." she stammered at him, her face awash with guilt.

"Calm yourself, my love, it is not a pronouncement against you. Cesare killed him, but I put the blade squarely in his hand; Juan's blood is on my hands."

Lucrezia's tears came in a torrent then. "Father..."

"No, stop it, now—come here..." he held his arms open to her and Lucrezia retreated into his embrace. "I gave Juan everything—except the tools to be successful as a man, let alone _Gonfalonier_ ; and worse, I never recognized, at all, what his different needs truly were. You all had my love, but with great inequality. Juan was no general; Cesare was suffocating under the cleric's collar; and you are correct, I never considered Gioffre at all. No, my ambitions eclipsed their desires, their truest talents—their different needs, one and all. Arrogant fathers.

"And you, Lucrezia—the harm I have done to you. The only thing I have done equally to you all—great harm. You, who were born of the most intelligent, most beautiful woman I have ever been graced to know, let alone love and share a life with. You, Lucrezia—diplomat; governor; emissary; champion of the poor children of Rome—you did those things. Why, you could wear my crown and run the very Vatican! You should have been a queen. Do you know how it both makes me proud and hurts my heart when I hear people say, after they've gotten to know you: 'She is Borgia? But she's so humble; so cultured; a brilliant, fair Lady!' How my heart soared at the reports from Cardinal Bembo at Nepi!"

"His reports were surely biased, father..."

"Of course they were not. He was in love with you, yes—who isn't after they lay eyes upon you, daughter? No, his reports were true. And now the whole of Ferrara awaits your return, honored to be able to claim you as their own. When I think of all that you had to overcome—me, Lucrezia, my name; my bad reputation—and still you are a triumph...in spite of me, you are a triumph, because you are the genuine article. Arrogant fathers..." he sniffed his disgust at himself.

"Father..."

"No, my greatest sin is that I loved you all, inequitably; profanely...and what it has cost you all...argh!"

"But you have done right by us, finally, father: Gioffre, Cesare and myself..."

"Have I? Is our truce secure, Lucrezia? For I need to speak to you now as the woman that you are and not the little girl I have always tried to keep you as, even as I married you off for my own political gain."

Lucrezia sat up to face him.

"It feels good to finally admit that out loud. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Oh yes, father—you are forgiven—and we are enemies no more."

Rodrigo took her back into his embrace and hugged her tightly, reluctant to let go.

"Oh, father, I do love you so." She lingered a moment longer in his arms. "Giovanni has fallen asleep—I shall be right back..."

Rodrigo nodded and let her go.

Lucrezia gathered up her son and secured him in the nursery with his brother. When she came back to her father she found him with a most urgent look upon his face.

"Lucrezia, I seek your counsel now; it is that time in my life where the roles have reversed, my love; inevitable for us all, as the parent becomes the child and the child becomes the parent."

"What is it, father?" she asked as she took her seat again.

"I am worried for Cesare. He stands to lose everything upon my death and with each passing day I feel my mortality."

"I will confess my own selfish fears in that regard, father, so much so that I desired an escape myself from that very possibility, just before Cesare left for Forli. Can you forgive _me_?"

"Of course I can. That was a terrible time for us all, my love. That your safety has been secured brings me the only peace I know, at present. It was, and is, an honest and understandable fear."

"But Cesare has never wavered, father. I do not mean to sound indelicate, but his only fear is that he will run out of time, not the consequences he might suffer should it happen that way."

"And that does not surprise me, Lucrezia. There is a darkness in Cesare, different than the darkness that resided in Juan—and in myself; mine from unbridled ambition; Juan's from his own insecurities and a total lack of faith in himself. Cesare knows very well who he is...what he is—what he's capable of. He is like no one in our family that has come before him. His blood will be upon my cold, dead hands."

"Father, you mustn't talk that way...he is making such great progress..."

"You know who our enemies are, Lucrezia and the list is ever growing; one has been neutralized; you may admire her but never forget that had she had her way you and Giovanni would be in your graves now, as would we all. Her own people did not want her back, Lucrezia, never forget that, either, as you go on to your happy life in Ferrara. The people there want you for a reason—because you are good and kind—a real Lady. Never forget.

"And despite the fact that he is Sforza, you can trust Ascanio, Lucrezia, when I meet my demise. There are plots upon plots, upon plots and the biggest thorn in both our sides, Cesare's and my own, is Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere.

"And as much as it pains my heart to say it, Lucrezia...you must watch out for Cesare, as well."

Lucrezia gasped at her father, truly horrified. "Father? What can you possibly mean?"

"I know that he would lay down his very life for you, Lucrezia, if it ever came to down to it, but that darkness in him..." Rodrigo looked worriedly off into the distance. "Lately, when we do talk, there is something behind his eyes—rather—something devoid...I often cannot find him and I know that, wherever he is, I have surely sent him there..."

"Father, stop it—your guilt and your sorrow makes you take responsibility for every ill that you see—real and imagined. Stop this..."

"I am not speaking against him, Lucrezia, you may relay any of this to him that you wish—he would hear it from you far better than he hears my concerns coming from me. I would welcome it—the three of us, discussing it together—anything that would help bring him back to me—we have only just declared our truce, you see? I've had so little real time with you all...the time that you each deserved, so long ago...and now there is Laura..."

"What? La Bella—she finally told you, then?"

"She did not have to. I am not the mathematician that she is but I know well enough how to count the months between our end and Laura's beginning," he smiled forlornly at his daughter. "Tell her to come to me before she leaves Rome—there are arrangements that must be made. Will you do that for me?"

"Of course I will, father."

"I shall go..." Rodrigo made to get up.

"No, you will not; you are distraught, father; you will lie down in my bed and take some rest before you go—I insist," she told him firmly.

"You see?" He gave a sad little smile at her. "The parent has become the child, hmm?"


	41. Numb

"Lucrezia, not a word of this to your mother," came Rodrigo's stern admonishment as he joined his daughter on the divan where she had been reading while he slept.

"Why not, father? Surely—" Lucrezia snapped her book shut and set it on the table before her, a worried look on her face.

Rodrigo sat down and faced her. "Lucrezia, I trust your dear mother with my very life, and I confide in her everything—that I am able to—do you understand?"

"No, father..."

"Regarding many things, and especially the concerns of our family, I seek counsel from her and often—but not regarding what I have confided in you to you today concerning Cesare...she has been so happy of late, you see? This new child and your impending marriage has brought joy to her heart and such smiles upon her face—smiles that have been long missed; add to that Gioffre's presence here in Rome and his happy situation with Maria de Mila...it has all helped to quell her own fears for Cesare, which she never speaks to. But I know her and I know the crushing love that she has for you all; I know the worries that she harbors for each of you, more intense now than when you were helpless babes in her arms; I simply cannot break her heart over Cesare with this knowledge..."

"No, father, not knowledge; I understand your desire to spare her and you have my oath to abet you, surely; but I would counsel you now and say that you are wrong about Cesare—"

"I tell you, Lucrezia, that I am not...I have tasked that man with the responsibility of protecting this family since he was a mere boy and he has done that magnificently! My appreciation for and of him? There are not enough proper words that embody all that I feel for him or the thanks that I owe him. But it has come at such a great cost, my love...such great cost...

"Your dear mother already ever marvels at the speed with which your brother dispatches his enemies and moves from one campaign to the next—but she is no fool, for we are all aware that my age and especially, the number of those who conspire against our family...ah, my love..." he gave a heavy groan and a weary shake of his head through closed eyes at her, then settled his gaze firmly upon her, "Lucrezia, Father Time has never been especially fond of me...even less so, now."

"Father Time is fond of no man or woman...it is the race that we must all run, father, not just you..." Lucrezia tried to comfort him.

"I am an old man, Lucrezia; have been honored to _be_ an old man, and I simply want what all old men want: for their families to be secure; for their children to be happy and prosperous, more than they have been; for their children to grow old with grace and wisdom, so that they may be honored to lose the foot race to Father Time with their own measure of peace. And have I done that? Have I made that a possibility, truly, for any of you?" he asked her then with eyes full of woe.

Lucrezia sat up straighter before her father, her own beautiful grey eyes aflame, burning into him with fierce love and appreciation. "You have done your sincere best, father—that is all that any man can do in this wretched world, and you have done it with a love that has carried us through the worst possible times to the best of them, which, God-willing, we will have again. He has given us this time, hasn't He?" she smiled at him then.

"There was a time when I asked my dear mother, 'What rules this family?' She gave me her answer, but because I was caught up in my own selfish endeavors I gave her my bitter one. 'Ambition,' I told her. I was wrong father; she gave the truest answer, and boldly, without a moment of hesitation: 'Love,' she said. Love, father; your love for us and our love for you. I need for you, at this moment and from now on, to take your comfort in that fact, as I do when worry begins to furrow my brow—I think of my family, who loves me; my family, who has seen me through my greatest sorrows—and my greatest joys—the joys are what I concentrate on and thank God in His heaven for. Do you know what my greatest joy this day is, father?"

Unable to speak words Rodrigo could only shake his head in question at her.

Lucrezia took one of her father's hands and pressed it to her cheek. "My joy on this day stems from being blessed with another son, who bears the name of his loving grandfather." Lucrezia kissed the palm of her father's hand then clasped it tightly in both of her own. "From one worried parent to another, for that is what parents do, yes?"

Rodrigo smiled through a knowing nod at her as a single, silent tear cascaded down his cheek.

"You will send Worry away from here and let Joy in to comfort you, yes?"

"Yes, my love." Rodrigo took his daughter into his strong embrace and thanked God silently for her.

"This moment is between you and I and no others, father; should you ever feel the need to unburden yourself to me again, know that all you need do is make it known and I shall come running. My counsel will always be the same—find your ease in the joy that is our family's love for one another.

"And now, there is only this: you and Cesare are men who are strong enough to face the realities before you, father; discuss with your son any matter that you must—but not with fear—for him or yourself. Will you do that?"

Rodrigo gave a silent nod of his head as he released his daughter from his embrace.

"Alright, then, we must collect ourselves for mother will be here any moment now, with fabric samples for my wedding gown..."

"So soon?"

"Not soon enough for her," Lucrezia chuckled at him, "she is very happily taken with Alfonso d'Este."

"Yes, of that I am well aware. I suppose her course is a wise one, it will be Christmas soon enough and there is the whole of Vatican City to prepare..." Rodrigo gave a contemplative sigh as he rose from the divan and began to pace the floor.

"When will you see Cesare again, father? Will you have an opportunity before the wedding?"

"Oh, yes; there is Piombino to discuss, you see...there has been some reluctance on the part of the subjects there to swear their oath to Cesare—we are hoping that my presence may help to influence them otherwise." While the short answer was indeed true, the real issue concerned Rodrigo and Cesare's desire to form an arsenal within reach of Tuscany. "I shall be making a trip there as you make your way to Ferrara, my love, and then we will set sail after that for Elba—he will have to make time to steal away again so that we may finalize our plans."

"I see. Will there ever be an end to it all?" she asked her father in great frustration.

"Ah, my love...a dynasty does not grow overnight, hmm?" Rodrigo approached her and took her into his warm embrace. "Thank you for your ear and your counsel...do try and take your own ease, my love—from one parent to another, yes?" Rodrigo smiled as his daughter gave her silent assent with the nod of her head against his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so the months passed quickly. Cesare had indeed managed to come back to counsel and confer with his father, but he had not seen Lucrezia nor she did she expect to see him. In her subsequent visits with her father he had not mentioned if he had broached his concerns for Cesare vocally with him, but he did seem much more at ease to her. And Rodrigo's excitement over the wedding as it drew nearer was both comical and endearing to her, but she was too busy savoring her waning days with little Rodrigo and Giovanni to feel anything other than a certain detachment; it did mean that the separation from her beloved children was imminent, after all. The only things that brought a smile to her face in the last months of that year were her two sons and the memories of her most intimate moments spent with Cesare.

So the preparations for the nuptials forged easily ahead without her under the capable and expert direction of her mother and father: Rome was going to experience a celebration like one the Pope had never put on before it.

By the end of November Gioffre and Maria had returned, as well as her friend Pietra Di Benedetti and her husband, who had happily availed themselves to Gioffre in Nepi; and of course there was Giulia Capece, her husband and daughter, Laura—who would hold audience with her happy father for the first time; the second week of December saw the Countess of Forli freed from Castel Sant'Angelo, at last, and released to the waiting arms of her loving children in Florence. As for Cesare, the siege of Piombino was very much still in it's infancy; he was biding his time with his eyes ever on his treacherous, double-dealing _condottieri_ , and Giuliano della Rovere, as well as waiting for the day that Lucrezia would venture to Mantua as Duchess of Ferrara before he endeavored to finally wrest Aragonese power away from Southern Italy.

A week before the wedding Lucrezia and her sons had been installed in her old apartments in Castel Sant'Angelo; the streets of the Holy City had come blazing to new celebratory life already with masquerades, which had been permitted for the whole of the month, and proper Spanish bull-fights, that had been held every third day; and, to the delight of all, a racecourse for women had been opened between Castel Sant'Angelo and the Piazza of St. Peter's. There was nowhere in Rome that Lucrezia could go and not experience someone else's jubilance expressed sincerely over her forthcoming marriage. Her thanks were always uttered with great humbleness; her smile was always sweet and gracious; but as the day grew nearer and in her most honest and private moments alone, Lucrezia's heart felt heavy and her soul was growing numb.

She had determined, however, to continue to do what she had finally learned to do best: keep it to herself. To her family and friends she was the picture of contentment; as for Alfonso her act was not so imminently necessary, for, while he had also arrived in Rome the week prior, they would not see each other until the day of the wedding. She determined also not to sink into the oblivion of depression, as she was so often prone to do, for she could not abandon her Giovanni in such a way ever again and she vowed that Rodrigo would never experience it from her, at all; her last days with her sons required her to be present and for them to be ensconced happily in the fullest effects of her love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days before the wedding, after another lovely day spent within the bosom of her family, Lucrezia sat beside her mother in Vannozza's apartment, surveying all of the happy souls in the room. In one corner Miracella and Pietra were catching each other up on their lives since they'd seen each other last; in another Gioffre, who was holding Giovanni in his arms, Don di Benedetti and Barone Capece were excitedly discussing an upcoming archery competition they were planning to attend in Spoleto; La Bella and Maria de Mila were seated across from Rodrigo comparing remedies to cure thumb-sucking as he played with Laura.

"Look at him..." Vannozza said through a smile at her daughter, never taking her eyes off of Rodrigo, who was by that time engaged with his youngest offspring in a lively game of 'Now You See Me, Now You Don't'. "There is no man as happy on this earth as that one when his children are at hand. Laura shall have the best of him, you know; he's a father now who has the wisdom that comes with age—he will not make the same mistakes with her that he's made with the rest of you."

"Mother!" In her arms Rodrigo was becoming fidgety.

"I mean that with great affection, Lucrezia. I am truly happy for him, and Laura." They both chuckled at the little girl's infectious, hearty giggles.

"Yes, well, try telling that to Bernardo or Jerenima, about being happy to have his children about..."

"Their mothers are to blame for that, not your father," Vannozza snapped at her. "Bernardo's mother was one of the most beautiful courtesans of her time but she never had a lick of sense; had she just bided her time your father would have acknowledged her son, as well. He was having his fun but he was working his way up through the Curia; I told her that he was a man of his word, but she took the boy away from Rome as a punishment to your father—it hurt him deeply and affected Bernardo even more so and unnecessarily. That he came back to Rome as a man, bitter and murderous, was no surprise but it was not your father's fault. Jerenima's mother was the same; a lady of the court but none too bright, and with the gall to be vindictive; she turned the girl against your father and then had the nerve to try and present her after your father became Pope. And he would have received her, but much to her mother's dismay the girl wanted none of him," Vannozza concluded angrily.

"I'm sorry mother, that I have touched on such a sore subject," Lucrezia apologized sincerely.

"I am just so tired of all of the lies that are told and perpetuated about your father. He is no saint—but he loves his children. All of them. No matter their faults—or his own. That look on his face there now, Lucrezia? I would never want to see him be denied such joy."

Lucrezia looked at her mother in awe; the love on Vannozza's face for the man across the room more than amazed and moved her; they had been through so much, together and apart, and their love had not only been rekindled but had grown even stronger. Lucrezia took one of her mother's hands into her own and kissed the palm of it.

"Please forgive me, mother."

Vannozza's gaze broke way from her beloved and settled on her daughter. "Oh, my darling..." The two women hugged each other. "Please forgive my little outburst."

"Of course, mother."

"And how are you, my love? You look tired..."

"I am a little, but it is so wonderful to be with everyone."

"Yes, well it is time for me to help you get your little ones to sleep, yes?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Come, let us say our good-nights to them all and get your beautiful boys off to bed..."

Lucrezia and her mother made their rounds saying goodnight to everyone; after Vannozza collected Giovanni they headed for the door and met a guard on his way with a message for Rodrigo.

"Ah...Our little Laura, We must bid you adieu..." he kissed her cheek and handed her to her mother.

"Is anything the matter, Holiness?" Giulia asked him.

"No, no, not at all—Cesare has just arrived from Imola..."

At the door Lucrezia willed her feet to stay their course and for her lips to allow no question of her brother to her father; behind her she heard her father tell everyone good night, then the swish of his robes as his urgent footsteps led him away in the opposite direction from her down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was quite some time later that her boys were both bathed and Rodrigo fed his final meal for the evening. Lucrezia had made quite a lovely makeshift nursery of the anteroom to her suite and sat up many long hours after they fell asleep, just staring through the door at them, thinking her thoughts and lamenting the inevitable; she tried valiantly to follow her own advice to her father and think only of the best of times with her family and sent fervent prayers to her Father in Heaven to provide families the entire world over with the same. For the whole of her time back at Castel Sant'Angelo it had been her routine every night and the lack of sleep had finally caught up with her.

Lucrezia was reclined upon her bed being ministered to by her mother. "You must stop this, Lucrezia..." Vannozza said sternly as she massaged her daughter's tired feet with almond oil.

"They will be gone from me, mother, in two more days; I promise that I will lose myself in sleep when I get to Ferrara," she sighed forlornly.

"I do not think Alfonso will enjoy that much, hmm?"

"At this particular moment, mother, I really do not care what Alfonso will or will not enjoy."

Vannozza refused to utter the words that had been spoken to her daughter so many time before in all of the past months: that the boys would be in the excellent and loving care of her brother; that her father would move as expediently as possible to reunite her with them; that Alfonso was a treasure of a man to be so understanding of her, and so desirous to see to her truest happiness. She knew that Lucrezia did not want to hear any of it.

"You know, my love, I cannot imagine my life without any of my children in it; in spite of everything...because of everything; you have been blessed with two fine boys, but what I wish for you now is to know the joy that I know..."

"And what joy is that, mother?"

"The joy and blessings of having sons..." Vannozza reached out her hand and lovingly stroked Lucrezia's cheek, "...and daughters."

Lucrezia found it impossible to suppress the loving smile that broke upon her face and back at her mother.

"Try to get some sleep, my love." Vannozza gave Lucrezia a kiss to the cheek and then quietly left her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During the following two days all of Rome was in a fever pitch; Vannozza was happily mired in the task of overseeing the myriad of final preparations and Lucrezia had not set eyes upon Cesare. As to both developments she only felt numb and ever detached. She had received a letter from Alfonso, warm yet officious; sincere, yet very carefully worded. After Lucrezia read it all that she could feel was irritation over the fact that decorum called for her to respond to it. She began to do just that the same evening that she received it, in the late quiet hours that her boys lay sleeping, but her heart was not in it. She sat for quite some time just staring at the blank sheet of stationery before her then finally gave it up and retired to her bed. She awoke the next morning, the eve of her wedding, with a headache and her stomach in knots.

It had been discussed and then discussed more between herself and her family as to when it would be best for the children to away to Nepi; it had finally been agreed to by all to honor Lucrezia's wish to have them leave before the wedding.

"I will not be able to bear the sight of them leaving me at any time, but it is not my wish to break down so completely in front of my new husband," she had told them all angrily when Gioffre and Maria had first returned to Rome.

"But I am to escort you with Cesare, sister, on your way to Ferrara..." Gioffre had protested.

"And you you still can, brother, Miracella will see them to Nepi."

"That's hardly fair, Lucrezia, Miracella wishes to see you take your vows, as do we all," he protested further.

"Miracella loves my children as if they were her own and she wants what I want—for them to be spared the sight of their mother's imminent and most magnificent breakdown, which is assured if our separation occurs under the scrutiny of that most public day," she snapped back at her brother.

"Children, please—stop this..." Rodrigo had intervened then. "Gioffre, We will honor your sister's request and that is that, hmm?"

"Thank you, Holy Father," Lucrezia said with a sigh of relief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, that had been that and at that moment the time was at hand.

"My Lady, I cannot tell you enough how happy that I am for you," Miracella said as she dressed Giovanni while Lucrezia dressed Rodrigo.

"Thank you, my love."

"And you must not worry about these two, their lives are more precious to me than my own, and—"

"Miracella, I thank God for you daily, my love; the care that you shall show my babies is the very least of my concerns, dear one; that combined with the thought of you all under the protection of my loving brother will help to keep me sane. I'm sorry that this all taking so long, I had hoped to release you to your own happy life sooner—you and Dante are still set to marry?"

"Oh yes, my Lady, he assures me daily that I am worth the wait," Miracella blushed at her.

"That makes my heart happy indeed," Lucrezia smiled at her. "So it more than comforts me, then, that he shall lead you safely back to Nepi. And you will all be further be protected under the helm of my brother's fine Captain Corella and eight hundred soldiers. Though my heart is breaking I could not ask for a finer escort for you all."

"And thank you for that, my Lady."

"Oh, you would need to thank His Excellence, for he arranged this many months ago."

"Should I ever see him again, my Lady, I will. Well, this one is ready," she smiled and gave Giovanni a kiss to his forehead. "I shall leave you to say—I shall leave you. Call me, please, when you are ready for me."

"Thank you, Miracella."

When Miracella stepped outside of the door she was startled to find the Captain leaning against it.

"Oh! Captain Corella, good morning."

"And to you. The escort awaits."

"Yes, thank you. The lady is saying her final goodbye to them."

Micheletto nodded at her.

"I shall just be down the hall...when she is ready."

"Of course."

Miracella left him.

Almost a half hour later the door opened to reveal Lucrezia with silent tears streaming down her face as she held Rodrigo in one arm and Giovanni by the hand.

"Micheletto!"

"Little sister..."

"Oh, Micheletto..." she did then what she had been trying not to as her face crumbled completely and her sobs became violent. At her side Giovanni began to whimper.

"You will be reunited with your children, little sister; until then—"

"Yes, Micheletto, please guard them on this journey—" she struggled to compose herself as she turned her head away from them all.

Micheletto took her chin in hand and turned her head so that her eyes would meet his. "With my life," he assured her quietly.


	42. Ruination

"My love?" Vannozza stood outside of her daughter's door and tapped lightly upon it. "Lucrezia, my love, please open the door?" Vannozza heard absolutely no movement behind it.

On the other side Lucrezia stood across the room staring blankly at it. Her promise to be present for her sons, or anyone else, for that matter, had expired upon their departure; one more interminable day and she would be closer to her own departure; away from her family; away from Rome; on to her own life. _My own life_ , she gave a disgusted little harrumph at herself. _What woman's life is really her own?_ she asked herself bitterly.

"Lucrezia? Your family, who loves you, desires to give you what comfort they may, my love—will you allow us?" Vannozza asked her quietly, trying hard to keep the desperation out of her voice; she waited anxiously for some answer; she leaned her forehead upon the door and managed to hold her tears at bay. "Lucrezia, if you do not wish it I most certainly understand, but please come to the door, my love and tell me to my face? Please, my love..."

Vannozza heard light footsteps and then leaned away as the door opened slowly.

"Mother."

Vannozza put a soft palm to her daughter's cheek. "That smile is too sad to be one meant just to placate a worried mother, hmm? If you truly wish to be alone say the words and I shall leave you, dearest..."

Lucrezia gave a silent nod of her head.

"That's my girl...come now—even if just for a little while; everyone is assembled in my apartment; a lovely repast has been prepared in the dining hall, I do hope you may be able to eat something, my love..."

Lucrezia allowed herself to be led away, only half-listening to her mother's delicate words of enjoinment; she appreciated her mother's tact, but one look at her face had been enough to convince Lucrezia that where she was going was where she truly wanted to be; it would be the last time that she would be with her family in such a manner for who knew how long, if ever again, truth be told, and she was surprised to find that her truest will would not allow her to withdraw into herself and away from them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vannozza had given everyone strict instructions to keep conversation light and not speak of the children unless Lucrezia did so herself and when Lucrezia walked into the room and saw all of the anxious, nervous faces before her she could not help the chuckle that erupted from her.

"Oh, I do love you all so much..." she went to Gioffre first and gave him a warm hug. "Please do—all of you—put your worried faces away..." she went next to be received by Giulia's waiting embrace, "if I was the lost cause you all fear me to be I would surely still be locked sorrowfully away in my room...thank you all for being here," she went to Maria, took her hand into her own and gave it an appreciative squeeze. "Where is His Holiness and Barone Capece?" she said to the relieved group then.

"Giovanni will be bringing Laura along shortly, and—"

"And We are here, darling daughter..." came her father's powerful voice as he exited Vannozza's anteroom with arms wide open to receive her.

"Holy Father..." Lucrezia smiled warmly at him as he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her cheek.

"We were just having a moment alone with your brother..." he said as he released her; Lucrezia saw Cesare then, who had entered the room quietly after their father.

Lucrezia felt as if her heart was trying to leap into her throat and she struggled to keep her tone even as she greeted her brother. "Cesare..."

"Sis..." Cesare smiled as he came in for his own hearty hug and took her over from their father. They allowed themselves to enjoy the opportunity of a long embrace, for it was the rare moment that such public displays of affection between them were sanctioned and they had not seen each other since Rodrigo was born. "I saw the children off, my love," he spoke into her hair as his sister dared to linger a little longer in the crush of him. He saw his mother give a warning frown at disobeying her previous edict, but then, if there was anyone who could get away with doing so it was surely Cesare; they shared a look, as he nodded at his mother and she nodded back, demonstrating that she recognized that fact well.

Lucrezia thanked her brother silently by giving him an extra squeeze before she released him.

There was a knock upon the door then; after a nod and a smile from Vannozza, Giulia went to answer it and came back with her husband and daughter in tow.

"Good morning, all—Lady Lucrezia, so happy to see you this morning..."

"And you, Barone."

"Do you have any appetite at all, sis?" Cesare asked as he held her at a gentle arm's length.

"No, but I would greatly enjoy joining you all and a seat next to you at the table, brother, so that I may hear about your latest triumphs," she smiled up at him.

"It would be my honor and pleasure, sis," he held his arm out for her to take, which she did happily.

"Very well, family—to the dining hall, then..." Rodrigo smiled at everyone as he took Vannozza's arm and led them all away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All through breakfast, even as she listened intently to her brother and participated in the lively conversation about the table, Lucrezia was amazed to find herself disconnected from herself, as if she was another person, watching from somewhere afar; for there he was—her brother: Cesare; being that and only that. She marveled at how easy it was for them to behave so chastely, not giving any hint of the passions that raged secretly between them; a passion that they had always been so careful not to display in front of others. Had it truly worked all of those years or were they deluding themselves? Yes, they were close enough that rumors persisted about them throughout Rome—rumors started by their enemies and the worst from her own first deceased husband; yet they had finally brought the rumors to truth—who could not see it? But then she came back to that moment, looking at herself and her brother engaged genuinely as siblings and wondered how she could ask even herself the question.

And then her faraway eyes adjusted again; there was the man next to her that had her complete heart; the man she loved like no other. Yes, the rumors were true and there were indeed those who knew it surely—two men, at least: one who had witnessed it in her brother upon their first meeting, that she was soon to call husband; the other she suspected because he was too close to Cesare not to know all of his secrets, and was escorting her children safely away to Nepi at that very moment. Her other self came crashing back into her body then; the lips of the people that had been moving soundlessly became vocal again, and was a jarring cacophony that came at her like an assault.

"...don't you think so, Lucrezia?" It was Giulia that was speaking to her then.

"Wh...what, La Bella?"

"That the brown and gold of your wedding gown, my love, carries more than a hint of the apricot your mother loves so well..."

"It does, La Bella; fine apricot threads running through the brown—I simply could not resist when I saw it—such a lovely color on my beloved," Vannozza answered for her daughter.

Under the table Cesare nudged his sister's knee with his own. "Lucrezia? Are you aright?" he asked her quietly.

"I...I am a little tired, brother..."

"Lucrezia? What is it, my love?" her mother asked then.

"I feel a little...I just need rest...maybe a little nap, mother, I was up very early with the boys..."

"And you refuse to eat—can you not eat something, my love?"

"No, mother, I'm sorry...excuse me everyone, thank you for a lovely morning..." Lucrezia rose to leave and stumbled slightly.

"Sis..." Cesare had risen with her and caught her quickly and easily.

"Alright, come my love," said Vannozza as she took her daughter over. "Let's get you back to your room, then. La Bella? Would you assist me?"

"Of course..."

Cesare collected himself as the three ladies left the hall and was about to sit back down when his father rose from the table.

"Cesare, would you join Us now? We must finish the conversation that We were having earlier, hmm?"

"Yes, Holy Father, of course."

"Excuse Us then—duty calls. We look forward to seeing you all this evening," Rodrigo said to the others before he made haste away with Cesare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia enjoyed a short visit with her mother and Giulia even though she left most of the conversation up to the two women, who were enjoying quite a little gossip fest. Again Lucrezia found herself nodding at the appropriate moments as she only half-listened to them discussing the intrigue of the seating arrangement of the wedding supper.

"Well, he is a cousin to the General—will that not be awkward?" Giulia asked Vannozza delicately.

"It is rumor that I will not entertain, Giulia—surely I will wear myself out before I die, uttering these words, but—"

Lucrezia's interest had been piqued. "What, mother?"

"Your brother is no saint, but no son of mine would ever do such a thing," Vannozza said in a huff at them both.

"Do what?"

"Have you not heard a word that we've been saying, my love?" Giulia asked her.

"She was dozing, Giulia, we should leave her to her rest now..." Vannozza rose from her seat, more than anxious to avoid elaborating on her previous discussion as she tugged at Giulia's arm.

"Wait, please? What are you both talking about?"

"I had hoped that these vile rumors would never reach your ears, my love..."

"There is talk all about Rome, Lucrezia," Giulia began conspiratorially, "regarding Cesare and the bride of a Venetian General; quite a beauty she is, I hear, and he had become quite taken with her, by all accounts; the woman disappeared some months ago from Cesena and the rumor...the rumor is that your brother abducted her and keeps her his very private prisoner! In his own quarters, no less!" Giulia came out with it, more than scandalized.

"It is more than preposterous; no woman has been found at his residence, he yielded readily to a search at the insistence of her distraught husband and she was not found," came her mother's livid defense of her son. "No son of mine..."

_Oh, Juan surely would have been capable of such a thing..._ Lucrezia harrumphed to herself, _...and probably you as well, brother..._ she chastised Cesare then.

"I will not entertain any more discussion about it; the General's cousin would do well not to utter a word about it, either, or I will have his head myself."

"Why is he even invited then, mother?"

"Politics, Lucrezia—what else? Enough of this—get your rest now. Are you sure you won't have anything else, my love?"

"No, mother, thank you both. I just need some sleep; I shall try to eat this evening."

"You will have to my love, if you are have any strength for tomorrow," Giulia admonished her gently.

"Yes, I know, thank you, dear Giulia."

"Alright then, rest well, my love, and I shall check on you later."

"Thank you mother; thank you both."

Both women gave Lucrezia a kiss to the cheek and left her; as she settled herself under her covers she could not help but to chuckle, in spite of it all, as she heard her mother fuss at Giulia all along the way out of her apartment for speaking of the wretched situation. She was too tired to give any more thought to it then; she dropped off to sleep imagining, instead, what point along the road her sons were at that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning gave way to afternoon, and afternoon to evening; Vannozza had checked on her daughter several times and tried gently to rouse her, but to no avail. Long after the family had finished dinner she tried again and had success.

"What time is it, mother?"

"Near nine o'clock, my love. Here—can you manage a little broth and bread?"

"Yes, I am actually hungry, thank you..."

"That's it—very good." Vannozza arranged the pillows so that Lucrezia could sit up comfortably to eat then placed the tray of food that she had brought for her daughter upon her lap.

"Did you ever answer the Duke's lovely note to you, Lucrezia?"

"No..." she answered after a spoonful of broth.

"Lucrezia!"

"Yes, yes—I shall put a few lines to paper shortly..."

"Do it after you eat—I would be happy to hand-deliver it myself," Vannozza ventured.

"Absolutely not, mother," Lucrezia began irritatedly.

"Alright, alright, I don't want to put you off of your meal—finish that up." Vannozza took a seat and waited for her daughter to finish.

"That was very good, mother, thank you," Lucrezia said when she was done.

"Well...tomorrow is the big day..." Vannozza said with a smile as she took the tray away.

"Yes," Lucrezia sighed, "it is."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Your note to the Duke—do write it, it would make him so happy."

"Oh! Are you really going to wait about until—"

"Yes...I am," Vannozza cut her off adamantly.

Lucrezia got angrily out of her bed and went to her desk; she retrieved a sheet of parchment from the drawer.

"Careful with the ink pot, there, you'll spill it—calm yourself," Vannozza warned at her daughter's hasty manner.

"Oh, I'll be careful..." Lucrezia snapped back as she wrote a few quick lines.

"Lucrezia..."

"No...an answer is required and here it is..." she said as she signed it. "There...I suppose you want to read it?" Lucrezia held the note out to her mother.

"That is quite enough—no, I don't want to read it, but I will seal it for you."

"Lovely...and I shall get back in bed..." She got up and did just that, stomping loudly as she went.

"What has gotten in to you? Why are you so angry?" her mother asked as she finished the task.

"I really do not wish to talk about it, mother. My day was more lovely than I thought possible, considering its awful start, and I have you all to thank for that; now I...I just want to be alone."

"Very well. I shall have this delivered for you. Giulia and I will be back at sunrise to help you prepare."

Lucrezia said nothing as she sat up against her pillows with her arms crossed about her chest.

"Goodnight, Lucrezia, I will not trouble you again tonight."

"You have not been troubling me, mother."

"Yes, well..."

"Yes, goodnight, mother."

"Maybe a bath would soothe you? I can call a—"

Lucrezia realized that her mother was worried and wanted to be helpful; she had hoped that eating something would have been enough to send her happily on her way but she could see that she would have to do one more thing before her mother would be satisfied; she managed a smile then as she looked at her. "Yes, a bath would be refreshing—send up a girl with water and then I must insist that you stop all of this fussing about over me. I promise that I will be of better disposition in the morning, mother, it was not my intent to be impertinent."

Vannozza brightened instantly. "Oh, my love, I understand...everything will be fine, Lucrezia, you'll see; please have faith in that?"

"Yes, mother."

"Alright; enjoy your bath and get some more rest."

"Yes, mother."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia did indeed relish her hot bath; by midnight she was wide awake and wondering if Cesare was back in his own apartment.

"There is but one way to know for certain..." she said aloud to herself; she put down the book of poems she had been unable to concentrate on, put on her robe and slippers and made her way to Cesare's door. Before she could complete a second knock it flew open.

"Sis—I was about to come to you..." he smiled at her.

"Well, here I am, brother—will you let me in?"

Cesare smiled broadly as he stepped aside to allow her entrance; as soon as the door was shut his lips were upon hers.

"How I have missed you, my love..." he said between hungry kisses.

"And I, you...are we really going to do this again, my love?"

"Do what again, exactly?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know what. Every time that I marry must we—"

"We haven't done it every time that you married..."

"You know what I mean, brother."

Cesare laughed lightly.

"Stop it. This is becoming a dangerous habit."

"Is it? How many more times do you plan to marry, sis?"

"You should ask that question of father, should you not?"

"Imp...this is your last marriage, you know this, surely."

Lucrezia said nothing.

"Come with me, now..." Cesare led her through his apartment to his bedroom; he helped her out of her robe and chemise, then up the platform onto the mattress; as she settled herself under his cover he stripped out of his own robe and breeches and joined her. "Now...come here..." he gathered her closer to himself as they turned onto their sides to face each other. "I know what pains your heart—they will be brought to court as soon as it is within his power to do so, Lucrezia."

"I know that. I shall be alone..."

"You will have your husband...a new life—your own life, Lucrezia, away from this Rome..."

She cast her gaze down and away from his.

"There is something else—you can tell me...tell me, my love..."

"You have so much to seriously concern yourself with..."

"Do you not know, after all of this time, what my most serious concern is, sis? Hmm?" He took her chin in hand and forced her gaze back upon him. "There, that's what I like to see—that beautiful smile..."

"Yes, I do know, but I have been silent and inside of myself these last few months...it is a hard habit to break...we will part soon and there is just no use..." her smile faded.

"Stop talking to me in riddles and just come out with it."

"I have been at loose ends with myself all day since the departure of the children—add to that my wedding day anxieties; I am simply a mess of emotions, that is all, my love."

Cesare gave her a skeptical look.

"Do not look at me that way, at this moment I am blessed to find my comfort in you."

"Do you truly, sis? Find your comfort in me now?"

"I do; and when my children are returned to me they will give me comfort. The only other comfort that I require is your safety and success, even if it means that I will never have you again..."

"Do not talk like that—you have me now, sis...you can have me now..."

"And I do want you..."

"So you come to me, yet make no move toward me—why is that?"

Lucrezia looked deeply into his eyes for a long while before she spoke. "Because I have grown into a greedy woman, where you are concerned, Cesare; a greedy lover; and my greed has ruined me..." She looked at him as if he was the most confounding puzzle ever created and put before her; she pushed him over onto his back and then rose up to sit astride him; she traced his mouth lightly with her finger, her gaze at him filled with a tantalizing mix of reverence and playfulness. "Is there no way to savor you without ruination, brother? I think not."

Cesare seized her finger with a reprimanding little bite then took forceful hold of her by her wrists. "Lucrezia, are you toying with me? Are you saying that you would deny me this night? You would deny me this night?" His face was a picture of pure and shocked disbelief.

"I _should_ deny you this night, my love, and myself; this night, especially..." she smiled down at him.

At that moment Cesare did not want to hear her explanation; he did not want to know how or when she had arrived at whatever troubled conclusions she had come to, although his heart was heavy at the thought of her working through her torments alone and without him; but there was was only one answer he was seeking and he braced himself as he leveled his next question at her sternly. "Will you?"

"Is it absolutely wicked of me that I am enjoying your anger at this moment?" she asked him softly as she leaned down closer to him.

"And you shall enjoy more of it if you do not tell me plainly what you are about..." he said crossly as he made to get up and away from her; Lucrezia pushed him forcefully back upon his pillow but only spoke with the challenge of the strange little smile upon her face at him. Cesare was uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her concentrated gaze at him. "What?"

"I should deny you, but not for the reasons that you think."

"Oh? You think you know my mind so well, woman?"

Lucrezia narrowed her eyes at him. "Where have you been for the past three days? And what delayed you, truly, in getting back to Rome?"

"You know that father keeps me quite occupied..."

"I also hear that there is another who has been keeping you quite occupied—the young beautiful bride of a certain general that you made your acquaintance with in Cesena."

Cesare gave his sister a curious look. "This is not like you, sis—jealous? You?"

"So it is true."

"She is like any other woman that I appease myself with...recreation, sis, nothing more."

"I hear that you keep her in chains in your very heavily guarded bedchamber..."

"And who did you hear such a thing from, sister?" he asked her angrily.

"Your exploits are apparently the talk of all of Rome, Cesare, please; but I heard it first from our very angry mother."

"And you?"

"Me? What of me?"

"I am not the only one that your betrothed must share you with..."

"What?"

"You've a lover that awaits your return to Ferrara...ready to—fill any void, shall we say? Should one present itself..." he said nastily through tight lips.

"You've been spying on me? Is that it?" she asked him indignantly as she gave a light, but angry pound of her fist against his chest.

Cesare took her roughly by her wrists and gave her a jerk. "I spied on Bembo—my love—as soon as I left you both in Nepi I found out more about him, yes; when he learned that you were to be betrothed to d'Este he made haste back to the old Duke seeking reinstatement to his former post; it must have been a joyous reunion that you and your lover shared on your visit there."

"I have never had him, I told you that—and let me go," she ordered him.

"Yes, well...not yet, maybe..."

"Let me go, I said."

"You started this fight, remember. Tell me, sis—is it absolutely wicked of me that I am enjoying your anger at this moment?" he taunted her.

"And I shall end it..." Lucrezia struggled to free herself from his grip.

"Surely you jest—it is truly your wish to leave me now?"

"It is."

"Lucrezia, this is pure foolishness..." he sighed his disgust at her as his ire began to rise anew.

"It is the wrong night, after all, hmm? The wedding night, Cesare..." she said matter-of-factly as she broke easily out of her stunned brother's relaxed grasp, "we will consummate our love again on my wedding night—that is how it is supposed to be done, remember?"

"Lucrezia..." Cesare reached out for her.

"Goodnight, brother..." Lucrezia said firmly as she got out of the bed; she backed slowly away from it as she gathered her clothes from the floor; she turned then and ran to his front door, slipping into her robe as she went, angry and determined not to let a new day find her shedding yet more tears. She stepped outside of his door and closed it quietly behind her, then surveyed the corridor; relieved to see no one about she made haste back to her own apartment; she was just about to close her door when she heard him call out her name.

"Lucrezia?"

She turned to find Alfonso staring glumly at her.

"Alfonso..."*

"Please tell me that was your mother's apartment that you just stole away from."

"Alfonso...I...it..." The guilty look on her face confirmed everything surely for him.

"I see. Well, I am not your husband yet, now am I?"

"I know that this looks more than damning, but nothing happened, my brother and I were only talking..."

"Yes, only talking—talking together late at night...naked together—you are naked under that robe, are you not? So much for brothers and sisters to discuss...naked together...late at night, yes? How fortunate for me."

"Alfonso, please, hear me out?" she begged him as she dared to approach him.

"Stop where you are, my Lady—I was emboldened, by your lovely note that I received earlier this evening; I thought that you meant those words, you see...I have been missing you so...the whole of this week has been a most exquisite torture...for me, at least."

"Alright; you won't let me speak—do you wish to call this whole thing off, then?" she asked him frustratedly.

"Of course not, my Lady; I shall honor the bargain. And now that I know the terms clearly...well, thank you for that." He gave a deep bow at her; without another word Alfonso left her.


	43. Fine Gold and Exquisite Guilt

True to her word Vannozza had roused Lucrezia from her slumber just before sunrise; after her bath they were joined by Giulia, Pietra, and the seamstress, Giuseppa, who would see to the final details of her gown.

"Where is Maria this morning?" Vannozza asked of the excited group assembled then in Lucrezia's salon.

"She cannot keep her hands off of my baby, it seems—she has abducted my Laura for the morning while we prepare my love, here."

"Yes, and while she prepares Gioffre for the idea of fatherhood—she is not subtle, that one..."

"Mother..." Lucrezia sighed at her mother uncomfortably.

"What?" Vannozza replied in a huff. "We all know that there is only one way for her to meet that ambition—I really must talk to her and ask her if she has a plan, otherwise she should desist from her incessant wheedling of my son."

"Mother, please..."

"And you—" Vannozza turned her ire upon Giulia, "you should not allow her the indulgence of using your child in such a way; I insist that you go and get your own nursemaid this instant and have her relieve the lady from her task."

Giulia stood speechless before the angry woman.

"Well? Why do you stand there gawping at me?"

"Mother, please...Laura is an angel—I am certain that Maria's delight in her is genuine, please find your ease and do not send La Bella away from me now?"

Vannozza turned back to Lucrezia and gave her a look confirming that she was more than unconvinced, but relented. "Alright, but you mark my words..."

Behind Vannozza Giulia gave Lucrezia a smile of thanks. "Lucrezia, I am so glad that you opted for this magnificent gown..." cooed Giulia as she approached to assist Vannozza in helping her friend get into it; she knew that the subject of the gown would steer Vannozza away to happier conversation. "She's always opted for gold for her wedding gowns in the past, you see..." she explained to Dona Pietra, who had styled Lucrezia's elegant coiffure and was waiting to help secure the exquisite net of gold and diamonds upon it.

"Yes, and I've had so many, have I not?" Lucrezia grumbled under her breath.

"Enough of that—this is your last."

"We can only hope, mother..." Lucrezia said irritatedly, as her thoughts went to Alfonso and the memory of his disappointed face and detached last words at her just mere hours before.

Vannozza shot her a look that took Lucrezia back to her four year-old self, when even the thought of disobedience yielded a swift smack to the rump and a hard word before being banished from her mother's sight.

"Do try to humor her, my love?" Giulia whispered desperately at her.

Lucrezia turned away and fixed a scowl upon her mother.

"Yes, Pietra," Vannozza resumed then, "her colors are typically gold and brown—" Vannozza knelt down to supervise Giuseppa. "I've only strayed a bit with the blending of the apricot—I simply could not resist..." she said absently, fussing about then with the train. "Yes, like that—very nice..." she said to the woman. "She shall wear her official colors on the road to Ferrara, and ever sparkle like the jewel that she is...there, that's done—lovely, lovely work, Giuseppa..."

"Must my retinue be so cumbersome? A thousand souls, mother? Really?"

Vannozza rose and helped the old woman up from the floor, then turned a stern face to her daughter. "You are quite effectively trying all of my patience this morning, girl. Yes, really—you will be Lucrezia d'Este, Duchess of Ferrara, in a few short hours—His Holiness was prepared send you off with double that number, but I talked him out of it, knowing how you are—so, absolutely do not complain."

Lucrezia's cheeks flushed red at her mother's ensuing chastisement; she did well to bite her tongue as she looked away from Vannozza only to find Giulia's sympathetic eyes upon her.

"Has anyone had a glimpse of the Duke, yet?" asked Giulia then, eager again to try and lighten the mood as she led her friend to a corner, "Forgive her Lucrezia, it is only her love for you that has her so up in arms," Giulia whispered at her; she turned Lucrezia gently away from everyone to face her in the guise of preparing to fix a lace on the bodice of her gown. "Please, my love, do not antagonize her further?" Lucrezia, for the very rare moment, resembled her brother Cesare at his angriest: lips tight, nostrils flaring, with a rage burning in her eyes that was positively frightening. "My love?" Giulia dared to whisper at her as she made to put a worried hand to her shoulder.

Lucrezia waved her away, shaking visibly with the effort to try and comport herself and not level her anger at her friend, who had no idea of the many wells from whence her anger stemmed at that moment.

"No, but I have seen his horses—magnificent! All done up in crimson and gold..." Pietra told them excitedly, unaware of the little drama playing out in the corner. "I wish that I could ride with you just to see the looks on the faces of the people as you pass through all of the cities along the way..." she gave a wistful sigh.

"And when did you see that, Pietra?" Vannozza asked her sharply.

"After dinner last evening, before His Excellence and His Holiness squired him away to a meeting—the old Duke invited Gioffre and my husband along and honored me with an invitation, as well—I certainly was not going to say no."

"The old Duke has taken quite a liking to Gioffre, it seems."

Lucrezia managed to give an appreciative kiss to Giulia's cheek before she turned around to face her mother. "Yes, mother, he has; Gioffre won him over on the hunt at the Coparius this past summer—two carts of fowl and four boars he came back with on only one day's hunt—their bond is strongly cemented, I would hazard to say."

Vannozza was struck by the contrariness of her daughter's voice; she gave her questioning look but let it go. "And what is the old Duke like, Pietra? I have not yet met him," Vannozza asked her.

Pietra was busy then, having ushered Lucrezia to the settee so that she could fix the magnificent net upon her hair. "Ah, he still has his looks and a sprightly step—does he not, Lucrezia? He would have married you himself if Alfonso had not made his intent known, I hear on good authority."

Lucrezia gave an indignant look up at her friend. "I doubt that greatly, my love..."

"Be still now, I must get this perfectly placed...but it is true, I tell you..."

"Maybe, Pietra, but we all know Ercole was not initially pleased about this alliance," Giulia reminded her.

"Maybe not, but once he met our Lady all of that went right out of his head, I hear."

"Once he secured my very generous dowry, you mean," Lucrezia harrumphed.

"No, my Lady, Gioffre assures me that he is quite genuinely fond of you..." Pietra persisted.

"We share a passion for the arts, that's all, Pietra," Lucrezia sighed at her.

"Well, that's everything, where he's concerned—there—look..." Pietra gave Lucrezia a hand mirror to survey her work.

"Thank you, Pietra, for doing my hair—I love it..." she managed a warm smile at her friend.

"My honor, indeed, my Lady. When the old Duke gets a look at you today I'm sure he will regret not taking you as his own bride," Pietra dared to say.

"It matters not, at this point," Vannozza snapped at her.

"I'm sorry, I meant no—"

"I am sure, Pietra, yet the better match has been made, in earnest and in genuine love; Lucrezia's happiness is guaranteed, at last," Vannozza said, ending that particular conversation very firmly for them all.

Lucrezia felt a headache coming on as her mother's short memory assaulted her nerves. Had she forgotten that her grandchildren were gone? And of course she knew nothing of the horror that had taken place in the early morning between her and Alfonso; and then there was the strange quarrel she had indulged herself in with Cesare, when she should have been lost instead in his embrace and loving kisses. Now she would be punished, she was sure, but for a thing she had not done!

And just how would the rest of the day go? She would see the man; they would say the words before God and the world and then what? Lucrezia felt a certain fear—no, hoped, actually that it would come to fruition—in the form of a note sent by courier saying that Alfonso wished to call the wedding off and was already long gone on the road back to Ferrara; each passing minute was a torture as she wondered—wished, even—that her release could be that easy, so gloriously imminent, and the by-product of a grave misunderstanding. But no courier came; no knock upon the door; no indication that the day would go any other way than had been planned.

"Well, I think it is a true scandal that the sister could not be bothered to come to Rome," Lucrezia heard Giulia say then. "Is she with child? Ill? Near death? What would keep her from coming to her own brother's wedding?"

"I do not care, I shall meet her soon enough," Lucrezia said wearily to them all.

Vannozza cast a suspicious, worried look at her daughter. "What is it, Lucrezia? You are so listless and contrary this morning—did you not get enough sleep last night? Are you feeling ill?"

"I'm tired, mother, and it is going to be a long, tiring day—the wedding, the banquet feast, the ride tomorrow and all of the stops we will have to make along the way—I just want it all to be done..."

Vannozza gave her a look then that let Lucrezia know that she was aware, finally, of her daughter's distress. "Everyone out—I must speak to Lucrezia alone," she ordered the other three women.

Vannozza joined her on the settee. "What is your trouble, my love?" she asked her when they were alone. "Something is wrong, I know it...tell me..." It was an order.

"Mother, the hour is fast approaching—my stomach is in knots..." That statement was true. "I shall be fine when the vows are said, that it is all." That assurance was a lie, but a necessary and effective one that set the desired smile of relief upon her mother's face.

"Oh, my love..." Vannozza gathered her daughter into her arms, "come with me now and let's try to get something into you for the sake of sustenance, yes? Alfonso is the very lucky man today, indeed—you are absolutely stunning! You are finally about to get on to a very real life of your own—it is happening, my love! Be happy for yourself? Please? It is allowed, you know..." she smiled as she released her. "Come..." she rose and took her daughter's hand, "I know that His Holiness is anxious to see you—and your brothers..."

Lucrezia rose on reluctant feet and followed her mother away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dining hall the men were finishing the last round of a breakfast banquet and engaged in lively conversation about the table. Rodrigo sat at the head; Ercole d'Este sat between Gioffre and Alfonso on one side; on the other, Cesare sat directly across from Alfonso with Barone Capece and Don di Benedetti to his left.

While the conversation about them went on robustly, Cesare and Alfonso had fallen into an awkward silence that was not immediately noticed by the others. Cesare found it a bit strange as he had just met with both d'Este's the previous night, long after dinner but well before his visit from his sister. They had discussed politics and Cesare's successes in the field; his father had privately confirmed to the old Duke Lucrezia's very sizable trousseau of jewels, furniture, a magnificent table service of gold and silver, as well as the promised one hundred thousand ducats; they had parted ways that evening in more than good humor.

Cesare knew the young Duke was a man of great action and few words, but his cool demeanor at that moment was more than a little off-putting; before he had a chance to make an overture to the man his father had stood up to bid them a temporary farewell.

"Gentlemen, this his been a pleasure; We must bid you farewell for the moment so that We may apprise your lovely bride-to-be, hmm?" he looked to Alfonso, "of the most glorious week—and morning—that We have been graced to spend with you both," he smiled as he looked then at Ercole. "We raise Our glass to you," he raised his and the others all followed suit, "and thank you for soon having the further honor and opportunity to call you..." Rodrigo gave a humble nod of his head then looked up at them again, "family."

"To family!" all of the men echoed him happily.

Alfonso's lack of gusto was more than noticeable to Cesare, but seemingly not to his father.

"Now you will kindly excuse Us? Cesare...Gioffre..." he called to his sons; the three Borgia's left their charges then to do as they pleased in the two hours left to them before the wedding and made haste away; as they walked down the corridor to the smaller dining hall where Lucrezia, Vannozza and Giulia were waiting for them, Rodrigo turned and addressed his son gruffly. "What was that all about, Cesare?"

"What, Holy Father?"

"That business with Alfonso—is there a problem?"

"I promise that I was asking myself the same question, Holy Father."

"Gioffre—" he turned to his other son, "do you have any idea why Our young Duke was so cold and silent this morning?"

"No, Holy Father, I found it most strange, as well; he was so pleased when we left the stables—"

"The stables?"

"Yes, last evening before they left to meet with you the elder d'Este took us to see their magnificent horses; Alfonso received a note while we were there, from Lucrezia, you see; too happy and impatient to bother reading it in private, he opened it right there before us all—the contents brought such a smile to his face; I can't imagine why he was so dour this morning..." his youngest son said, more than truly puzzled.

"Hmm..." Rodrigo grumbled.

At that moment Cesare had more than a fair idea as to what the man's "trouble" was; he said nothing more as they made their way to his sister.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning, Ladies..." Rodrigo greeted his three favorite women happily as he entered the hall.

"Sister! You are a vision! Absolutely breathtaking!" Gioffre beamed at her as he came in for a hug.

"Thank you, my love."

"One of Heaven's very own stars, come down to grace Us—darling daughter, you look most magnificent...We are so happy for you on this day..." Rodrigo said softly as he embraced her next.

"Thank you, Holy Father."

As he held her he thought back to the horrible nightmares he had when she was married to Giovanni Sforza that had told his soul that his daughter was in trouble, and his shame over ignoring them.

"Oh, my darling girl..." he murmured into her hair, "you do not begin to know the peace that this marriage of yours shall bring me, at last..." he looked down into her misty eyes, "that you shall be safe—and more importantly—loved...ahh..." he hugged her tightly to himself.

Their moment was inspiring tears in everyone in the room, as little sniffles abounded from Vannozza and Giulia, both of them wiping furiously at the corners of their eyes as they looked upon the pair. Even Gioffre, who had seen firsthand how true his father's words were, found a knot forming in his throat as he struggled to maintain some semblance of his manhood; only Cesare, standing back at the door, his arms crossed imperiously about his chest, a scowl on his face, his eyes burning with impatience at his desire to speak with his sister alone, was immune to the drama playing out before him.

Vannozza became aware of her eldest child then and his angry silence; she walked over to him. "What? What is it now?" Though her voice was hushed it was full of frustration, for she could not possibly imagine what had her son so upset.

"Nothing, mother...excuse me," was all that he could tersely manage before he marched out of the room. The others had not even noticed his departure—save for Lucrezia.

"Alright, family, let Us comport Ourselves..." Rodrigo said more to himself than the others. "The hour is drawing near—We must all assemble soon for the short ride to the Vatican, yes?"

"Yes, Holiness," Giulia said. "I shall go and gather the others..."

"I must go and see to the girls..." Vannozza said next, regarding the sweet little cherubs who were set to carry Lucrezia's train; she gave Lucrezia a kiss to her cheek and dashed away.

"Is there anything else that can be done for you now, daughter?" Rodrigo asked her.

"Only if you have managed to produce some wonderful elixir that will loose the knots in my stomach, Holy Father..." Lucrezia half-joked through a wan smile at him.

"Let me escort you to your salon...to rest yourself, yes? You shall be fine, darling girl, as soon as you see your loving groom's happy, smiling face, hmm?"

Rodrigo escorted her back to her apartment. "Do try and calm yourself, my love; I know that it is a long day for you, but your glorious future awaits...I shall see you at the procession." He gave her a final kiss to her cheek and left. Lucrezia went to her settee, sat down and waited.

Some ten minutes later a force of fury came bursting through the door and into her salon, nostrils flaring, his beautiful mouth screwed up in full and righteous indignation; he grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her up to face him.

"Have you lost all of your wits? Let me go!"

"So...you went to him last night, did you? Is that why you would not make love with me? TELL ME!"

"Cesare, you're hurting my arm..."

He gave it a vicious yank. "Ahh...and we do not want to bruise this beautiful..." Cesare loosened his grip upon her and ran his hand up the lovely tufts of her brocade and silk sleeve, "alabaster..." he leaned in closer to her as his hand palmed the swell of her breast over the bodice of her gown, "skin, hmm?" He cocked his head at her as his eyes bored menacingly into hers, "Lest your husband see evidence of my familiar journey to that place..." he traced a finger lightly down the middle of her chest and then jabbed his finger into it, "where he will never truly reside, hmm?"

"Stop this...and go close the door before we are discovered," she angrily ordered him.

"Oh? Will you grace me, finally, with that which you denied me last night? Yes, sister, I'll gladly go and close the door—and lock it securely."

Everything about him was a threat—the condescending little bow he gave at her before he turned on his heel; the way he marched away from her; the way he slammed the door shut and bolted it; the challenge of his slow saunter back to her, at odds with the wild rage flashing in his eyes.

"Stop this, Cesare..." she ordered him again, more angry than afraid. "How could you possibly think—"

"What? Think what? I know...sister..."

"You know nothing—I did not have him, far from it."

"Really? Then explain his manner to me this morning."

"And what manner was that?"

"The manner of a man who has had a victory," he said as he continued his slow approach.

Lucrezia let out an indignant little snort at him and crossed her arms about herself. "Really? Was he smug, brother? Did he taunt you? With the smile of a man who holds a satisfying secret? You're a man—surely you know the look of another man who has had his pleasure."

Cesare stopped in his tracks then; Alfonso had been none of those things; he had been sullen—angry; his face only registered his confusion at her.

"Oh..." Lucrezia hung her head and laughed openly at his ignorance. "He caught me, brother...tiptoeing, half-naked, back to my apartment...coming from yours in the wee hours of the morning..."

"The room where you wasted my time in pointless quarrel..." he snapped at her.

"The room, brother, where we did nothing, for once, that we have been accused of, yet the thing I have confessed of to him; the one time that I am not guilty and he will never be convinced otherwise—the look in his eyes more than proved that. I am to marry a man today whom I promised to be honest with; respectful of; whom I have betrayed, as far as he's concerned, and will now never trust me again. This is the 'happy' life I am sentenced to; a bargain to be honored; a marriage in name only—another alliance."

Cesare's hand flew to his mouth at the horror of her misfortune, the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation, the terrible irony; he went then and knelt sorrowfully before her. "I'm so sorry sis, I thought—"

"Damn what you thought! How could you even have thought it? How could you dare to come at me this way?"

"How? Because I am beside myself with my love for you!" He took her roughly by her wrists and shook her, as if he thought that would better her hearing of his words.

"Oh! Stop your manhandling of me..." she yanked her wrists out of his grasp.

"This is your own fault, you know," he leveled at her then.

"What?"

"Had you stayed with me in my room...instead of playing silly games...inciting an argument—and... over what?" he grunted his frustration at her.

Lucrezia rose angrily from the settee and went away from him.

Cesare rose up, rushed her and took her shoulders into his strong grip. "And over what? When you should have stayed in my bed and had your way with me as I know that you truly wanted to do—he would never have been the wiser, not even for all of his stalking about your door in the middle of the night; he would never have been the wiser."

"Well, it matters not, now; it's all ruined and thank you, brother, for your fine and sympathetic rendering of my transgression."

Cesare could only look his disbelief at her.

"What?" She frowned her irritation at him.

"You would still quarrel with me? Now?"

"No—our quarrel is over, Cesare; soon I am to be paraded through the city, all done up in fine gold and exquisite guilt—for I am guilty, am I not? Guilty of my love for you; guilty of being a political whore...for father—for you; guilty of promising Alfonso d'Este that I would be truthful, knowing full well that promise was a lie; guilty, really, of the thing he thinks we did last night even though we did not—but will tonight—if you will have me. And you have to have me, brother, for no one else will..." Her voice was calm and her gaze was distant, not focused upon Cesare at all.

"Lucrezia, stop this..."

"No, brother, my course is set—if I am to be a whore then I should endeavor to be a great whore, do you not agree? The apple and the tree, hmm?"

"Lucrezia..." he pleaded at her.

"Go now, my love, you must dress quickly...the wedding is a mere hour away," she said as she took his hand and led him to the door. "Cesare, I am sorry about last night—I would try and explain myself, if I could, but I do not think that it really matters any longer; I did want to stay...I always want to stay and for you to stay with me—tonight I will make it all up to you." She reached up, grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of his neck, pulled him down and claimed his lips in the torrid possession of her own; when they broke away from each other Cesare's desire for her was at a fever pitch.

"Damn this wedding..." he groaned as he tried to kiss her again.

"It already is, my love," she said with a sad little smile on her face as she deflected his kiss with a delicate caress of her finger against his lips. "Shh..." she whispered at him as she unbolted the door then opened it wide for him to leave.


	44. Dispatch

And so the moment had finally come to pass where Lucrezia found herself kneeling before the altar and her father's cousin, Cardinal Francesco Borgia, exchanging lies, otherwise known as her vows, with Alfonso d'Este.

Alfonso had been completely unreadable behind his customarily subdued manner; his face emanated neither joy, nor the displeasure Lucrezia was sure he truly felt with her, to their rapt audience that filled every row of pews in the Chapel of the Madonna of Colonna, or to her. When the vows were done and it came time for the matrimonial kiss she was sure that it would only be a matter of civil formality; she resigned herself to the fact that, most likely, it would be reluctant, quick, and cold...just enough of a show to please the masses. She was surprised, then, when Alfonso took gentle hold of her and kissed her warmly; deeply enough to set her pulse racing at her immediate wish that the night before had not happened; sweetly enough that she pretended for a mere moment that his kiss was true; and reverently enough that it could not be construed as vulgar or disrespectful; but when he broke away from her there was a strange gleam in his eyes that bore at her the silent charge of full betrayal.

_Ah...my Judas Kiss; little do these people know that he has surely called me out with that kiss for what I truly am; well, I deserve that,_ she thought wryly to herself; she gave a small curtsey of acceptance at his little declaration of war which set the room to cheerful, ignorant applause.

In his seat Cesare was well aware of the facade that was playing out before him as he struggled to hold his temper; he rose to his feet with the crowd as the couple left the altar and made their way down the aisle and kept his eyes firmly fixed on his own boots.

As they made their way Alfonso gave genteel nods of recognition to their guests; through her own beauteous smile, which she never actually directed at her new husband, she said, "Well...it appears that you have studied acting with the masters, my Lord...what a lovely show you have just put on for our guests."

"The same could ever be said of you, my Lady—although, I fear the masters have much more to learn from you than the other way around."

Lucrezia bristled inwardly. "I don't know, my Lord—that one kiss alone is quite the magnificent study in deception..how unfortunate that it was not truly meant for me. Bravo to you."

"How unfortunate for you that it truly was, my Lady, and that you have denied yourself the knowledge of its fullest expression," he said without missing a step as he promenaded her onward to the Nave.

Lucrezia could not even begin to form the proper words to rebut his smug, pompous ones.

"Well...do not fret, my Lady; this drama is comprised of two acts, only: I shall not suffer the indignity that your second husband was forced to endure—your brother in attendance behind lace curtains, and what not; you _will_ honor me as a husband on this night, for I will not have this marriage called into question. But do keep in mind that the sooner you give me an heir the sooner you can be done with me, as is your wish."

They were outside of Saint Peter's then, overcome by pealing bells and the cheering roar of the crowd; Lucrezia's blood boiled as she managed to still her tongue, smiling and waving as Alfonso helped her into their carriage for a short celebratory ride through the city.

_He thinks that he has cowed me into submission because I am silent; I am silent because I have been ambushed and must keep this smile plastered to my face before all of these people. You have another think coming if you think that I am this easy to control; and you are mistaken, my fine, angry husband, for this drama has three acts: Act Two—the banquet; more smiles and lies to appease the masses. There will be no 'this night' for you—you shall spend this cold night alone, for Act Three is where my true husband awaits me and there is nothing that you can do to stop me. Dare to try anything with me—just you dare! Lucrezia gave him a look only to find his gaze firmly directed at the crowds lining the streets that he was waving to. Oh, yes...I did learn a thing or two from the village witch in Naples...just you dare..._

Alfonso became aware suddenly of her concentrated gaze at him, but when he turned to face her Lucrezia was attending happily to the crowd on her side of the street, seemingly oblivious to his presence in the carriage with her at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was amazing to realize just how much of one's wedding day could be taken up not speaking to one's spouse at all, Lucrezia marveled to herself as the rest of the day and evening unfolded.

Her first wedding to Giovanni Sforza seemed almost a figment of her imagination by the present point in time; all she remembered of it was the vulgar play that Juan had commissioned—that she did not even understand then, truth be told—and falling asleep at the table. She had not even felt Cesare gather her up and carry her away, let alone tuck her snugly into her own bed. The horrors that came after that she had to banish from her mind as she thought next of her wedding to Alfonso, whom she had genuinely loved. That day had been an exciting one for her, for he had honored his vow to remain chaste before marriage and his resolve had driven her to absolute madness! And what a beautiful day it had been, all the promise of love and happy lifetime set before them like presents under a Christmas tree waiting to be opened in joyous discovery. It was a true marriage—until that fateful moment before the damnable seating chart.

Sitting at the banquet table, between her husband and her brothers, surrounded by her closest family and friends, it was easy to ignore Alfonso altogether as they engaged themselves in the various conversations about the table; and though her feet were tired she still wanted more of the dance, which could be counted upon for hours of happy and sanctioned distraction at the hands of other men, many of whom were still waiting for their turn to have a dance with the bride. She and Alfonso hadn't said three words to each other since their carriage ride earlier that day. Now there were delicacies before her on the table to ooh and ahh over; her strength to gain before her trip back to the floor; so much revelry to lose herself in with so many other happy faces about her.

She and Cesare had not had many words, either, but his presence beside her was more than enough to make her happy; the stilted look on her husband's face had also made her viciously happy. While her mother was engaged quite earnestly with the Duchess of Urbino, Elisabetta Gonzaga, her father was keeping Alfonso and the old Duke happily entertained; to unknowing eyes Alfonso was doing well to appear quite at ease, but Lucrezia and Cesare knew better. When Alfonso felt Lucrezia lean slightly away from him and toward Cesare for a word in her ear he made no pretense of turning away from Rodrigo, who was in mid-speech, to give them both his own full attention.

Cesare leaned around his sister slightly to get a better view and raised his goblet. "Brother-in-law—to you."

Alfonso only nodded.

The pregnant moment between them was strange enough for Rodrigo to give a look of befuddlement and for Vannozza to shoot a curious look at her son, for his tone had been slightly mocking at her new son-in-law and she was not pleased by it. Everyone else at the table turned their attention to the trio thinking that a toast was to follow.

"A toast to the happy couple, Cesare? We are waiting, then," Vannozza gave a crooked smile at him.

"Yes...yes, mother, a toast to the happy couple—to the Duke and Duchess of Ferrara," Cesare raised his glass again as everyone joined him. "I wish you both a long life filled with all of the happiness, love, health, and prosperity that it may dare to hold."

"To happiness, love, health and prosperity!" everyone echoed.

"Oh! Oh! She is here! She is here! I hope that you do not mind, Duchess...Contessa..." the Duchess of Urbino exclaimed excitedly to Lucrezia and Vannozza, "please excuse me—Your Excellence, I do not mean to sound indelicate, but I knew you could never be guilty of such vile rumors...please excuse me, one and all, for my lovely one is here..." the Duchess rose from the table and made haste across the room to a Titian-haired beauty that had just entered the banquet hall.

"Who is that?" Vannozza asked out loud of no one in particular.

"Well, that is your General Carracciuola's cousin—by marriage, anyway, Cesare—Pandolfaccio Malatesta...he is Lord of Rimini, Vannozza..."

"Former Lord of Rimini, eh, Holiness? He is _condotierri_ now—surprised that you let him anywhere near this place, eh?" the old Duke, happily in his cups, let out a cackle of laughter before he took another sip from his goblet.

"But who is the woman?" Vannozza asked again, ignoring the old Duke's little outburst.

"She is Dorotea Malatesta Carracciuola—the General's wife, Contessa; the Duchess of Urbino is her patroness and godmother," Alfonso explained quietly to them all.

"You mean...the woman they accused you of abducting, brother?" Lucrezia asked Cesare incredulously.

Cesare leaned back in his chair and shot a quick angry glance at everyone around the table before they rested on his father's curious waiting gaze. "Yes."

"Well, she certainly is as beautiful as they say—and she looks perfectly healthy and happy—why would anyone level—"

Barone Capece nudged his wife gently under the table and Giulia shot him an unappreciative look.

"What is this? I had not heard—"

"Obvious to see that it was a vicious lie, Maria," Gioffre cut her off.

"What lie?"

"You've been playing nursemaid to little Laura and have been happily spared from the gossip of late, Maria..." Pietra whispered at her.

"But—"

"Later, Maria...I'll explain later..." Pietra promised her before she gave an uneasy look to her own husband, who leaned conspiratorially into her.

"Do you think that is the wise course, my love?"

"Shh..."

"There, Cesare—your Captain is at the door, as well..." Rodrigo said then.

Cesare looked up to see Micheletto's steely glare upon him. Dreading that his appearance was in connection to Dorotea's yet relieved to have a reason to excuse himself from the party, Cesare did just that and rushed away to meet him.

Lucrezia's eyes followed her brother and Alfonso set his unflinchingly upon his wife. Lucrezia watched as Cesare approached the Duchess and bid her his goodnight, along with his stiff greeting to the cousins Malatesta before he shot an uneasy look across the room at her and rushed away with Micheletto.

"What in the world is all of that about?" asked Gioffre of his mother and father.

"I'm sure that I know not," Vannozza assured him in a huff.

All eyes were upon Rodrigo then. "Ah...well...We have quite had Our fill—Contessa, would you honor Us with a dance?" He ignored the questions in everyone's eyes as he stood and then held out his arm to Vannozza.

The tongues at the table began to wag vociferously as the pair disappeared from the table, except for Lucrezia, who looked suspiciously back at the door where the beautiful Dorotea was still in happy intercourse with the Duchess, and Alfonso, who was silent but more than delightfully amused.

On the floor Rodrigo danced himself and Vannozza over to Ascanio Sforza and conferred with him between movements.

"Let Us guess—a cousin?"

Ascanio gave Rodrigo a broad, guilty smile. "Yes, Holiness."

"Never the same one twice...at least, not one that We've ever seen...do you not have a favorite, Cardinal?"

"They are all my favorite, Holiness..."

Rodrigo let out a hearty guffaw.

The music changed then.

"Oh, good Lord...a saltarello? We've not the energy for that..." Rodrigo grumbled; with his apologies he released Vannozza to another partner as Ascanio did the same.

"Do you have need of me this evening?" Ascanio asked as they both watched their ladies dance.

"We hazard that We will but We shall not keep you long—what do you know about Dorotea Malatesta?"

"The General's wife...a spirited girl, that one. Very adventurous. They say..." Ascanio gave a smirk at Rodrigo and chuckled lightly as he looked down at the floor; it was his habit to do so in the company of others so that they could not read his lips and many intrigued eyes were indeed upon them.

"He did not give Us particulars, but Cesare's explanation was that he was covering for one of his men."

"Where that one is concerned, Holiness, she covers well-enough for herself."

"Hmm...nice of her to show up now." Rodrigo found it impossible to mask his ire.

"Actually, it is. Her husband is a fool where she is concerned, but he is a master on the field. Awkward though it may seem she has been away a long time—it is a good time for Cesare for her to surface now."

"We hope so. He shall not get away from here without conference with Us, We can tell you that," he assured his Vice-Chancellor as if he were scolding a school boy.

"Then I shall make myself available, Holiness."

"Very good." Rodrigo caught Vannozza's attention and signaled that he was leaving. "We shall go and retrieve him now, the suspense is killing Us."

Ascanio looked up then, and chuckled as Rodrigo headed away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You are sure?"

"Her intelligence is sound, Cesare. Never hurts to have more soldiers on your side, hmm?"

"But they must be convinced."

"If anyone can do that you would surely be that one."

Cesare and Micheletto were in his apartment; Cesare paced his salon floor as Micheletto leaned against the door, in easy repose but with every muscle in his body ever en garde.

"Where is she now?"

"Still at the banquet—which is winding down. His Holiness will be expecting you."

"Of course. della Rovere?"

"Ever in the ear of Vitelli and the Orsini; you win over the Germans and he will run crying to King Louis like the little girl that he is."

"I do need him out of my hair..."

"This will help. Machiavelli wants to see you, as well."

"Ah, that is news that is always a pleasure. To discuss?"

"The Treaty of Grenada."

"Yes, that makes no sense to me, at all."

"He is in agreement."

"How is da Vinci coming along with the map of Tuscany?"

"He's making progress but he is far from done."

"Alright then—bring her to me, my friend, so that I may hear it all from her own lips."

Micheletto sprang away from the wall with a nod and was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banquet was indeed winding down; Ercole had been escorted to his room by his valet; Gioffre and Maria had long retired as well as Don and Dona di Benedetti; Giulia was enjoying a last dance with her husband. Lucrezia was enduring the last vestiges of civility from her husband as Vannozza took the last sip of wine from her goblet; she wished them both well and then excused herself for the night.

"Are you ready to retire now, _wife_?"

"I am not," Lucrezia shot back at him nastily.

"No? There's only one woman in this place to stare down with your venomous glare and she has been gone for quite some time now."

"Go on to bed, _husband_ , I have no use for you here."

"Well, I can see that, as you've only danced with me once—would you so honor me before the musicians pack it all up and call it a night?" Alfonso stood and held out his arm to her.

"I would not."

Alfonso laughed at her as he sat back down.

"I will not even ask you what is so damnably amusing because it truly matters not to me."

"Oh, I will gladly tell you, my Lady...you are amusing; your brother is amusing—the whole of this day has caused me only riotous laughter. She is a divine beauty, and so very much unlike you; I suppose it flatters you to see him in the temporary arms of blonde maidens who could easily be mistaken for you; a legion of Lucrezia's that he makes do with until he can get back to the genuine article."

"I will not do this and certainly not here in public. If you will not leave my sight then I will leave yours." As Lucrezia rose to go Giulia rushed over to her, pulling her tired husband along behind her.

"About time, my love," she smiled at her friend. "Both of you—all of my love and congratulations to you, again..." Giulia curtsied at them both.

"Thank you, dear Baroness, I assure you that your Lady is in good hands. Barone," Alfonso nodded at Giovanni.

"Your Excellence."

The smile on Lucrezia's face disappeared as soon as they turned around and Alfonso herded her away.

"Unhand me..."

"Oh, so Act II will begin with a little fire? Very nice," he grunted as she struggled within his strong grasp.

"So...you are a brute, after all..." There was no fear in her voice, only anger.

"The brute that you created, my Lady," he informed her as he drug her along to his apartment. Once behind his closed door he railed at her.

"Arrgh! You lied to me! You lie to yourself! I asked you...did I not ask you? You promised me your honesty, Lucrezia Borgia!" He approached her menacingly. "He is ever here..." he pawed at her bodice and ripped it away; he put his palm firmly to the middle of her chest and pushed her against a wall. "He is ever here, in this place, which has room only for a very select few, hmm? Which I am not one of."

"Yes, I saw him, Alfonso, the night before our wedding, but we did not..."

"You truly do take me for a fool..." he uttered his disbelief at her. "You expect me to believe that? When the two of you are together the whole world burns!" he shouted at her.

"And I told you that we were cursed! I gave you the option to walk away from this, but who in their right mind would walk away from one hundred thousand ducats?" she shouted her sarcasm back at him.

"I did not marry you for your dowry and you know it," he leveled a pointed finger at her.

"Oh! Go away from me or I shall scream out!"

"You are angry now because he is with another—you know that he is; you saw the look in his eyes when he saw her—I know that you did because I was watching you; you saw the look in his eyes and what you saw was more than lust for a temporary plaything and you cannot stand it! And what a specimen she is, hmm? Luminous eyes, that sparkle like the finest, brightest green and gold-flecked opal; skin kissed just ever so sweetly by the sun, so much more striking than is usual for such a one as her...and her body...ripe and full...the body of a woman..."

"Oh, you could see all of that from across the room, could you?" she sniffed at him.

"Every man could and every man did..."

"If you liked what you saw so much—"

"Ah, but her eyes were only on Cesare... one thing you do both have in common."

"Enough of this, Alfonso...enough of your insults..." she warned him then.

"And that hair...the color of billowing clouds on fire from the rays of the setting sun..."

"Red-haired, like a witch...do not make more of her than she really is..." Lucrezia hissed her own assessment at him.

"Oh, and she has bewitched him, has she not?"

"A witch!" she turned away determined not to give him her tears.

"They call you a witch, so I suppose that you would recognize another when you saw her..."

"And they call you a whore-monger, so I suppose that you would recognize a whore when you saw one!"

"Be careful what you say about whores, my dear Lucrezia."

His voice was calm all of a sudden, and she felt only dread as his soft footsteps approached her; she wheeled around to face him, shaking with rage and the resolve not to be taken against her will. "Tread carefully, sir; my first husband lies rotting in his grave today for the crime you would dare to commit against me now; my only regret is that I was not the one who put him there—continue this course and that is not a regret I shall be forced to live with again."

Alfonso rushed her and pinned her against a wall. "Do you think that is how I even remotely want you, Lucrezia Borgia? Do not flatter yourself."

"Oh? To fear the act of rape is flattery these days? I have truly been enlightened."

"I promise that you do not know what enlightenment truly is. And I am not a rapist."

"But you are a husband, which typically, is the same thing, experience has taught me. But is that not what you told me earlier today? That you are a husband that expects to be honored? That _is_ what you said, is it not?"

"You tread carefully, my Lady, for it is not my desire to live with regrets, either."

"Oh? Is that right? It is to be the lace curtain and my brother after all, then?"

Alfonso's hands flew to her delicate throat and wrapped tightly about it; still there was no fear in Lucrezia's eyes, which was not what he was looking for; he didn't know what he was looking for. He let her go and turned away from her, listening in shame as he heard her gasping to catch her breath.

"You...you could do it, couldn't you?" she coughed at him. "You have done it—ended a life...with your bare hands..." she sat down in heap upon the floor. "But you didn't, this time. Why not?"

Alfonso came and sat on the floor to face her, dejected; defeated and full of self-loathing; he looked into her eyes.

"I could; I could kill you for not loving me...for not giving me the chance to love you...but I would never do it, you know that. If you know nothing else about me, Lucrezia, you must know that. I've heard so many rumors and I tried to discount them all—about your father; your brother; your husbands—you. Had I known the truth about Giovanni Sforza, I never would have taken this tactic with you. I thought...I don't know what I thought."

"Yes you do—tell me."

"I thought I had been given a reprieve tonight; that woman showing up as she did—but I suppose you would forgive Cesare anything."

"I have always forgiven Cesare everything; he is my weakness and I know it. I—"

"Don't say another word—we made a bargain. I will never husband you, I know that with certainty now; I will not ever bother you in such a manner again, Lucrezia. I am doomed, you see, because I'm afraid you are my weakness. We must all have one—isn't that what the story of Achilles the Great teaches us all? I must earn your trust, at least, so we must part now..." Alfonso made to rise and do just that and Lucrezia stopped him.

"Will you not hear me out, Alfonso? I have been nothing if not painfully honest with you from the beginning—why would I lie to you now? I did go to Cesare's room last night, with the intent to make love with him, yes. But we did not," she told him emphatically.

"I really don't want to know the details, Lucrezia," he rose up from her.

"But you misunderstand, Alfonso..."

"My eyes did not misunderstand what they saw this evening; my heart does not misunderstand what it feels at this moment. I'm afraid we must share this apartment tonight, but you must surely take the bedroom—I will sleep out here. It has been along day and I am so very exhausted, as well you must be—please..." he held out his hand to help her up, then waited for her to go.

Lucrezia was about to speak and Alfonso shook his head at her, still waiting for her to take her leave, which she finally did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, the rumors are true...I would be dead and lying in my watery Tiber grave from the look in her eyes alone if such a thing was possible—that is the favorite dispatch of you Borgia's, is it not?"

Dorotea was stretched out on Cesare's bed, lying on her side, propped comfortably upon a heap of his sumptuous pillows, as he stood on the floor below her trying to hold his temper.

"Stop that now or it is indeed where you will be dispatched to, Dorotea. Tell me what you came to tell me," he ordered her.

"I came to tell you that I missed you, Cesare..." She turned over on her back and held her arms out to him.

Cesare shifted his weight onto his other leg and rolled his eyes hard in his head at her. "Dorotea...I don't have time for games..."

"Too bad—I've so enjoyed the games we've played together..." she pouted as she returned disappointedly to her previous position to face him.

"You have a name..."

"Alright, business first, but I'm not fooled by you, Cesare...she's not here now, you can dispense with that frown and give me your smile..." she cooed at him as she rose up and crawled toward him; she grabbed hold of his shirt collar and brought his face slowly toward hers for a kiss.

Cesare took her chin roughly in hand and stopped her. "The name."

"Arnulf Aebersold; he is the leader of the German malcontents who are done with the lot of you: King Louis, you, and especially the Holy Roman Emperor Maximillian."

"And the Pope?"

"They still have great respect for your Holy Mother Church and your Holy Father."

"I don't want to know the details of how you came to know this."

"I think that you can figure it out."

Cesare released her. "I didn't ask you to do this..."

"I share your vision for a unified Italy, Cesare; I'm just doing my own small part."

"So you say. What will you tell your husband?"

Dorotea reclined back upon his bed, stuck her hand up in the air and looked with great disdain at the simple gold wedding band on her ring finger. "I can tell my husband anything and he will believe me. He cannot tame me—no man came tame me—especially not with a ring as boring as this..."

Cesar could not contain the little chuckle that escaped him; she was responsible for having that effect upon him often, for she possessed great wit and a skewed sense of humor that had been the first thing that had drawn him to her when they met three years prior at a bull fight in Rome.

"Thank you for helping me to teach him that very important lesson, Cesare Borgia."

"Why did you marry him at all?"

"Why, indeed. Look to your sister to help answer that question."

"Take care, I'm warning you..."

Dorotea concentrated her gaze back upon him. "I will tell him that I've been away seeing to my dear, sick cousin and her babe, my nephew, Sigismondo; and that I will next accompany my godmother, the Duchess of Urbino to Rimini...along with the wedding party..and then onward to return to Venice."

"No."

"Yes. I'll be good, I promise."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Cesare could not help his smile at her.

Dorotea only leveled a very-self satisfied one of her own at him.

"Your presence upsets my sister..." he appealed to her.

"My presence upsets everyone—I will need a letter."

"A letter?"

"From His Holiness—instructing my husband to dare not lay an angry hand on me upon my return to Venice. He is a fool, but he has a temper—I would like to live to see twenty-five—and beyond, you see. I will not leave Vatican City without it."

"Done. And Dorotea?"

"Yes, Cesare?"

"Thank you."

"My pleasure." She got out of the bed then and slid to her knees before him.

"No—my father waits for me and I would garner that letter for you this very night," he said as he reluctantly pulled her up to face him.

"Then I shall wait for you." She dared to give a quick peck to his lips.

Cesare gave her a reprimanding look before he pulled her into his embrace and gave her his first—and proper—welcoming kiss.


	45. A Sudden Defection

"Ale? So early in the morning, my friend? Are you still smarting over that letter you received from the King?"

"And good morning, to _you_..."

"You mark my words, he will soon see the error of his ways—before it is all over he will be more than indebted to you for your service and you and I will share a chuckle over this moment."

"Really?"

"Put that sneer away, we have much to discuss..."

"You sir, have worn that scarlet dress for so long that you've forgotten you're a man—you are still a man, aren't you? Your constant nagging would put my own mother to shame..."

Giuliano della Rovere suffered the man's insult at him with only a crooked smile. "I shall attribute your foul mood to fatigue—"

"You can start with fatigue and end with your incessant, overwhelming vendetta against the Borgia's, Cardinal. You are wearing me out, quite frankly—" the man began hotly.

"Not just my vendetta—think of you brother, Paolo, Vitellozzo! Your Father! Between the Florentines and the scourge that is Borgia I would think that your focus, at the very least, would remain true, let alone your desire to see that justice be done."

Vitellozzo took a long slug of ale and set his tankard heavily upon the table. Seated there in the dining hall of the palazzo that once belonged to his family he looked around the room, then out of a mullioned window to the city that had belonged to them, as well; although his memories were fond ones the scowl on his face remained unchanged; he settled a stony glare back upon Giuliano. "Whose justice, Cardinal? I am sick to death of vendettas, politics and war; this is about your desire to get your arse in the seat of the Papal Throne and nothing else! What more do you want me to do? Cesare has the King's favor! His lances! Ships! Thousands of men-at-arms! Between his own indomitable will and the Pope's—he cannot be stopped! He is a beast, I grant you that—I have seen him in action with my own eyes, on more occasions than I care to dwell on—so yes, I am fatigued, Eminence."

"Oh...he can be stopped, Vitellozzo—he and his father both..." Giuliano's voice was quiet and calm as he paced the floor before Vitellozzo. "For whatever reason King Louis is enamored with Cesare, I'll grant you that; but he is more amused with the Borgia than anything else...and wise enough not to trust them. Cesare's conquests are remarkable—too remarkable. What is to stop him from a bid to usurp the very King, himself?"

"Preposterous, Cardinal..." Vitellozzo grumbled.

"I hazard to disagree—the Spaniard goes on and on," Giuliano was waving his hands emphatically in the air, his face pinched and pained, speaking more to himself than to Vitellozzo, "about his love for Italy, but if he could rule the world he surely would. What's to keep him from trying?" he turned and asked of the condotierri as he stopped pacing the floor.

"He has committed many crimes, Cardinal, but world domination? I think not."

"Think again, sir, and answer me truly—what is to keep him from trying? You and I both know that Cesare desires to be a king—and are kings ever content with only one territory or two? Only with the spoils of war to be had in their own country? No, for there are always others that beckon to them from borders far and beyond the ones they know and have exhausted. Conquest and expansion, that is the way of a king, and Cesare has shown quite a propensity for that, hmm? A bastard, who started as a cleric, has acquired for himself a duchy—that is ever expanding. So, again I ask you, Vitellozzo—what is to keep him from trying to rule the world, indeed?"

Vitellozzo waited to hear the answer for he did not have one.

" _We are_ , Vitellozzo...we are. Yours is not the only ear that has had my attention, for I constantly put that question to the King—enough so that I have his fully, at last. So yes, he is amused by the Borgia's; helps them as long as they can help him—the minute Cesare shows even a hint of the treachery we all know that he is capable of King Louis will be ready to smite him. You and I will assist him with that...we are his eyes and ears in that endeavor, and he listens to me, do not doubt it. Now...are our friends ready to meet at Magione?"

"They are."

"Well, do try to sound more positive than that, hmm? Now, Cesare is still in Rome and this very morning, in a few short hours, he rides along with his sister's wedding party as far as Cesena..."

"I still find it amazing that he would leave, even for that event, with no word or appearance yet of the French troops promised him by the King."

"But good for us and also this: I have heard on good authority that there are some eight hundred fearsome German soldiers—mercenaries—encamped in Rimini who no longer hold their allegiance to their own Emperor, let alone the French King and the Borgia Bastard—and you do remember how formidable they are, hmm? Pisa, Vitellozzo?"

"Are you trying to convince me to do something other than run my sword through you at this moment, Cardinal? If you are you're making quite the sorry job of it," Vitellozzo's sneer grew angrier as he thought back to his worst defeat—at least, before the Borgia had his brother executed, his father murdered and then confiscated his family lands.

"I'm trying only to remind you that it means eight hundred less soldiers to fight and that their defection from their Emperor and Cesare's service could prove to be a further boon to us."

Vitellozzo only grunted, daunted still at the idea of trying to best Cesare and the task at hand under the dogged determination of della Rovere.

"Have faith, my son," the Cardinal smiled confidently at him and gave a reassuring pat to his shoulder, "I see that you have your doubts, but put them aside for the moment, Vitellozzo—it is only a matter of time, now; gather your men and let us work together to rid Italy of the Borgia menace, once and for all."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As was to be expected Castel Sant'Angelo was a hive of activity in the wee hours before sunrise on the morning after the wedding. When Lucrezia had awakened she found that Alfonso was already long gone from their apartment to see about the preparations for the departure of their combined and enormous retinue; there was too much to do before leaving at eight that morning, so all parties would be left to their own devices in the matter of seeing to their sustenance before the journey away. As she stood in the salon, staring at Alfonso's brief note, she heard a knock at her door; more than likely it was her parents, bearing a small meal and their private farewell.

"It is open—come in..." she called out to them; she looked up from her note and a cloud of anger sailed across her face and found its anchor at her narrowed eyes and the downward slope that had become the corners of her mouth. "You."

"Yes...me."

" _You_...may leave."

"I _am_ leaving—I came to say goodbye."

"Of course you are," she sniffed at him.

"I could not leave without seeing you, there's been enough rancor between us and I would not leave it that way."

"Well, it matters not, at this point...you really shouldn't have bothered."

"Lucrezia..." he closed the door and approached her at the writing table.

"Stop right there, Cesare—I can smell her on you...go away from me."

"Not even the question of where I am off to, then?"

"With her to the Devil, I hope."

"You do not mean that, sis..." he said softly as he made to approach her again.

"I said stop—" she ordered him firmly. "Mother and father will be here any moment—I imagine you are off and back on your way to Imola, and a good thing, too. Whatever you came to say then say it and go."

"I did not invite her here, she came without my knowledge, sis, please believe me..." he pleaded softly at her.

"I'm sure the same cannot be said of your exploits with her this morning, brother." Lucrezia stood taller before him as she squared her shoulders and thrust her chin up at him, ever so slightly.

Cesare gave her a reprimanding look and a grunt of exasperation as he resigned himself to the fact that she would not be placated. "At least tell me if you are alright—did he dare—"

"Your concern touches me not, at this late date. My night is over and now there is only the hell of a new day and another night to face...of many days and more nights, to follow."

Cesare could hold his temper not another moment longer. "Do not be vague with me, Lucrezia—is the marriage consummated?"

"Is that all you care about? You desire another appointment behind the lace curtain, then?"

"I care about _you_! And to know whether it was or wasn't—and if it was, then if willing or by force!" he exploded at her.

"Well, I suppose you shall just have to wonder, then."

Cesare rushed her and took forceful hold of her shoulders. "Stop this madness and tell me, sis—are you alright?" Locked together in angry silence their eyes bore into each other for a long moment; finally Lucrezia's broke away from his as she turned her head at his hand upon her shoulder; when her gaze met his again it contained the silent but very clear demand for him to unhand her, which he did, but only grudgingly.

"I will tell you this, brother—Alfonso has thus far honored his agreement with me and we do not need your service behind the lace curtain."

Lucrezia could see the relief on his face but was not comforted by it. Was he truly happy that Alfonso had remained the apparent gentleman and that she was unharmed? Or was he simply reveling in the fact that she was untouched and his still, in body, spirit and heart? Cesare was about to speak but Lucrezia stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Yet."

The look on his face then was a satisfying mix of heat and perplexion. She turned abruptly away from him. "You will excuse me, brother, for I must prepare myself for the day."

There was another knock on the door then; waiting for no invitation to enter, Rodrigo and Vannozza bounded through, bearing smiles and a small tray each of food.

"Ah, Vannozza, our Children! I'm sorry, Cesare, there's not enough for you—I thought you would be gone already. But of course, you came to say goodbye to your dear sister," he smiled at his son.

"Yes, father."

"And to tell her that Cardinal Francesco Borgia shall travel with her, in your stead, to Ferrara, yes?" he looked at Lucrezia, who still had not turned around. "Lucrezia, my love?"

She turned to face him. "Yes, father, he did." Her face was a mask of indifference.

"Lucrezia, what is it?" Vannozza asked her harshly then, after she had set her tray down alongside Rodrigo's.

"Good morning, mother—nothing."

"Gioffre shall be along shortly—Cesare, did you have time to say goodbye to your brother, as well?"

"I did, father—it has been...a busy morning," he said through tight lips.

Lucrezia gave her brother an indignant look which Cesare returned.

"And where is Alfonso, my love?" her mother asked.

"Already gone to see to our retinue."

"Ah, yes, of course. Come and have something to eat and then I shall help you dress."

"Of course, mother."

"You shall have one more along for the ride, my love..." Rodrigo said absently as he seated himself before a small plate of fruit.

"What, father?"

"The Duchess of Urbino shall be accompanied by her ward—the wayward Lady Carracciuola returns to her most anxious husband in Venice," he chuckled lightly.

"And about time..." Vannozza said in a huff as she took a seat, "causing all of this pernicious talk about you, Cesare. I hope this is the last we ever hear of her."

Lucrezia shot a furious look at her brother but did well to bite her tongue.

"Yes, well—duty calls."

"Oh yes, of course—come here, my son..." Rodrigo rose to give Cesare a hug and kiss goodbye. "Until Elba, then, hmm?" Rodrigo gave his son a conspiratorial wink through his happy grumble.

"Yes, father." He leaned down next to give a kiss to Vannozza's cheek. "Mother."

"Godspeed, Cesare. I love you."

"And I love you, mother."

He stood and faced his sister again; he wanted to congratulate her, but on what? Her marriage was a lie; he wanted to wish her happiness, but there was no real hope of that, at the very least until her children joined her—and he didn't want to mention them lest he sent her heading in the direction of another downward spiral. There was nothing useful he could say to her at all and they both knew it. Except for that one thing—three words; that if he dared to utter them to her would cause him to show their parents just how cursed they were; for he would surely rush over them both to take his sister into his embrace, anoint her with his passionate kisses and carry her away with him. If he dared to utter those three words he would not be able to stop himself from putting them into action.

Did she know it? Was that why she was standing there facing him, as if dumb and mute? Or was she actually angry enough at him to finally be done with the whole sorry endeavor that had been their love for one another? He had to do something, say something, other than stand there lost in his own torment. Finally, he said the one thing he could say...the one and only constant between them.

"Goodbye, Lucrezia."

Lucrezia stared him down, thinking how differently it all might have been had his paramour shown up even a day earlier. She still would have been angry with him but the difference of a day would have seen her going off, at least, with a husband in a better disposition. Was she truly alright? That was a good question. She could only hope that Alfonso was truly a man of his word, for he had a temper and she was surprised to admit to herself that she actually feared him. So, off again, away from the world that she knew, with yet another angry man, and the cause of it resting squarely upon her own shoulders. Suddenly, it hit her that Cesare was leaving her and she was leaving him; all that she really wanted at that moment was to declare a truce between them; take him into her embrace and at least give him her heartfelt kiss of goodbye.

Somehow she stayed rooted to the floor, a safe distance away from him and further held chastely at bay by the presence of their parents; it was the realization that she might very well never see him again that accosted her then, and began to sink into her like a small stone falling through the dark abyss of a vast ocean; her brain disobeyed her breaking heart to keep the tears from her eyes and her tongue from laying lifeless in her mouth; just barely then, above a whisper, she answered him.

"Goodbye...Cesare."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, my Lady, I hope that you had enough time to bid your family a proper farewell this morning; I know that you will be greatly...missed."

Lucrezia had indeed said her goodbyes to La Bella, her husband and her baby sister, Laura; the di Benedetti's; and Maria de Mila, who would soon be watching over her own two precious boys; but she knew of whom Alfonso was really speaking and she was in no mood to be goaded. Sitting in the carriage beside him, the wheel of which had not even completed its first revolution on the journey away, she refused to face the rest of the long ride in sufferance.

"Alfonso."

"Lucrezia."

"We have a lifetime together to trade barbs and insults, my Lord; today all that is required of me is that I smile and wave; if I never ask you for another thing—and I will not trouble you by daring to make a habit of that, by any means, kind Sir—allow me those two simple duties, this one time. Please," she said irritatedly.

"You 'ask' me? You _'ask'_ me? Dear Lady, one of the first things you must learn is obedience to your husband. I might have considered your request—had it been a request. You dare to order me about? Demanding my silence is what you're really about, here, and you shall not have it..."

So, he was not one for yelling and screaming, Lucrezia noted with great and growing alarm; his anger was far worse—quiet, menacing...and deadly. The redness that had risen to the visible part of his bearded cheeks, and his voice, which was becoming deeper and more measured with each word at her, made her feel like the trapped animal in a cage that she really was. And who was he, really? Where had the man from the early morning gone to? The one that said he wanted to earn again her trust? Who had left her unharmed, safe—and untouched—in his bed?

"...do you hear me?" he was quietly raving. Lucrezia had been lost in her horror at the depth of her true situation and had not heard all of his previous words.

"Do you hear me?" he demanded roughly.

"Yes, my Lord," she answered him with no emotion.

"I shall say what I want, when I want, and if I am speaking to you, you will answer. Smile and wave..." he harrumphed at her with a snort. "You will smile; wave; speak—you will get out of this carriage and crawl on the ground like a dog on all fours, if I order you to, do you understand me, _Duchess_?" He spat the word at her.

"Yes, my Lord."

"There—" Alfonso pointed to a massive group of well-wishers lining the road beyond the Vatican gates. "Your first constituents—smile and wave, my Lady," he sneered at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night sky over Rimini was full of stars; as brisk as it was there was no threat of snow. Cesare and Micheletto had stopped to water their horses and make use of a lonely little copse of olive trees to attend to their own business.

"Still no word," came Micheletto's annoyed voice from the tree where he stood.

"It will come—and so will the soldiers. Magione?" Cesare was done and fixing his breeches.

"The meeting has not been set as of yet." Micheletto finished and the two men headed back to mount their horses.

"Hmm...well, when this night is over I hope to be rejoicing, yes?"

"We both do. And another."

They set off at a leisurely trot so that they could continue to talk. As is the way with people who are very close to one another, Cesare and Micheletto's conversation seemed haphazard, but was far from it; few words were needed to express that which they discussed and the manner in which they picked up on each other's thread of topics would have more than baffled the casual listener.

"Yes, he is ever looking out for his Florence, even as he is exiled from it."

"So to speak."

Cesare chuckled. "Yes, so to speak." They went along silently for a while before Cesare spoke up again. "Lucrezia must surely be in Ferrara by now..." he said absently.

Micheletto nodded his agreement. "And she must surely be in the embrace of her own loving husband by now—just over the way, there..." he teased his friend gruffly, pointing Northward. "His Holiness served her well, I take it?"

"Yes, the letter was a masterpiece of coercion. I still fear that there are two women for whom I am deeply worried over this evening, however. His name again?" Cesare asked as the garrison where the German soldiers were quartered came into view.

"Arnulf. Aebersold."

"Alright, then—let us see how quickly we can send our favorite Cardinal running for France, hmm?"

Micheletto and Cesare set their horses both to full gallop then for the next mile to the garrison gate.

Though the hour was late the garrison was alive with activity; some soldiers were stumbling about on drunken legs, just having returned from the village tavern while others were just heading out; most all of them who watched Cesare enter the square gave him their reluctant salute while the rest paid him no heed at all.

"A disgruntled group, indeed," he mused at Micheletto.

Micheletto only sniffed his disgust at them. "Over here..." Micheletto led the way to the tent that housed Aebersold, dismounted his horse and had words with the soldier posted outside of the closed flap. The man went in and returned with a tall German, broad-chested and thick, but as muscular as an ancient Greek athlete; his physique brought to mind a sculpture of Zeus he had seen tossed into the bonfire in Florence—a fine piece of work, like the man before him.

"Your Excellency, how may I be of service?" His words were respectful but his tone was less than accommodating.

"I have heard that you and your men here are not happy—Aebersold, I believe."

"I am that one, but I have never heard it said that the lot of a soldier is one that includes happiness."

"Well, then I will say that I have heard that you and your men do not feel this campaign to be in your interest any longer."

"Who would you have heard this from, Your Excellency?"

"That is not the issue here, sir."

"Oh? Then what is?"

"I have a proposal for you."

"We have had enough of Italian proposals; and French; and German, if you must know."

"Must we stand out here in the cold all night speaking about it or will you find your manners and invite me in?"

"Invite a man in who has come uninvited? I don't care who you are—I think not."

"Well, is there somewhere else we can talk? Maybe have some of your men join us, for what I have to say concerns you all."

"That I can do—follow me..."

Aebersold led him to the square in the middle of the garrison.

"Men! Gather 'round here—His Excellency, the Duke of Valentinois, wishes to have words with us!" he heralded his men. A few men in the square responded; the rest milled about pursuing their particular endeavors without breaking their stride.

"These are all the men interested enough to hear you out—what is it you wish to propose?"

The motley group laughed out loud raucously.

"I am here to discuss your Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian," Cesare addressed the sparse crowd.

"He is not for Germany—only for himself; and if he is not for Germany, then he is not for us!" called out one drunken soldier in his thick accent.

"Discuss something else!" called out another.

More raucous laughter ensued and the crowd grew by a few more men.

Micheletto, standing just slightly behind Cesare, his hand at his hilt, proclaimed loudly, "This is pointless—besotted and beaten—that's all that these men are."

"Now, just a minute!" roared a mercenary who stepped out from the crowd to show himself; Micheletto braced himself for conflict; the man before him looked as imposing as Aebersold and the cold air he expelled from his flaring nostrils looked like the smoke roiling away from the very heat of his anger. "What the hell do you mean beaten?" He faced off with Micheletto as the tension in the square grew thick. Suddenly he broke out into uproarious laughter and was joined by his insolent brothers.

"It is all a joke to them," hissed Micheletto.

The laughter showed no sign of abating and finally Cesare would have no more.

"Why does one man join another man's army?" he called out loudly and gruffly to them.

"For the rich pay!" a man answered back facetiously.

"For the fine women!" yelled out another.

"To travel!"

Cesare looked around at the group and smiled at them, nodding his head at them as if he found their jokes funny, as well; the smile on his face disappeared as he turned back to face Aebersold, and addressed the man with dead seriousness.

"Because he feels a love for his country and desires to protect it? To save his family from marauders? To unshackle himself from the chains that bind him under the regimes of brutal feudal tyrannies? Because he sees some gain in it for himself? All of the above and more..." he turned back and looked around at the assembled group. "That is no crime!"

A few of the men stopped laughing and began to listen to him.

"There is a means to an end, here; I fight from within so that I may achieve it; that may mean nothing to you now, but it should: I fight for a unified Italy; where all men are considered equally, especially those that have fought for her—men—such as yourselves."

More of their laughter and vocal derision subsided as the group gave Cesare their serious attention.

"I ask you, one and all: are Romans born the only good Romans? Is the desire to live a prosperous and fair life for yourself and your families a trait possessed only by Italians?"

"No!" someone dared to shout out.

"You are correct, sir—no. Whether we be Italian, or Spanish, or German, or Swiss; Jewish, Catholic, or Muslim—or any other people or creed under the sun, is that not what we all want? Our rulers are fighting for lands...territories upon territories—I am fighting for Italy and Italy alone and any and all transgressors against her; only for Italy.

"Italy...was once a place that accepted all and respected all—tolerated all—I task all of you to find any person—man, woman or child—in any duchy that is mine, that finds disfavor with my administration.

"You all know who my father is. You all know the criticisms that have been leveled at him; for welcoming the Jews to Rome; for his equitable dealings with the Muslims; for the Spanish blood that runs through his veins. His Italy—the one that he envisions and the one that I fight for because of it—is a land of inclusion and welcomes men such as yourselves here; we are honored to have you in our service; we owe you a debt. His vision...is my vision...and I would ask you all now to join me and help me make it a reality."

Aebersold snorted indignantly at Cesare. "Do not patronize me, Your Excellency—equitable dealings with Muslims, you say? Did not a sultan of the Ottoman Empire die in the Vatican under his very protection?"

"Ja!" a voice rang out and started a new round of discord.

"He did—at the hand of an assassin from his own land," Cesare countered over the small roar of the larger crowd that had amassed.

"Of course," the man sniffed at him, a bit put off that Cesare's hackles had not risen on iota at his obvious insinuation—he had known men that had been run through by the hot-tempered Spaniard for lesser infractions but he was emboldened by the large presence of his countrymen around him. "Hmm...well, His Holiness allowed the Jews their entrance to Rome along with a healthy contribution of their coin to his coffer; my brothers and I are not rich men—there is no way that we could ever be expected to pay such a price—even if we wanted to." _Take that, Borgia Bastard_.

Laughter and derision broke out anew amongst the men; Cesare breached the distance between himself and Aebersold to stand before the huge, towering man.

"I see a battle wound on your leg there, sir; and you have lost many brothers on the field, as well—you have already paid a price...more precious than any coin, Aebersold: you have paid with blood."

Behind him Aebersold's men were grudgingly being won over. All was quiet for a moment.

"He's right! We have paid with our blood! Why shouldn't we be allowed to seek our fortunes here?"

"Maximilian does not care about his own people—we are here—we should have safe harbor here—we have paid in blood!" sang out another.

"For ourselves and our families! We have rights!"

"We have the right to life, like everyone else!"

Aebersold looked around the square at his men; they were beaten, but in spirit; they were tired of being called upon to use their expertise to fight other mens wars and with not enough gain in it for themselves; because their ruler, Maximilian was running their country into debt and ruin; while they were loaned out and away their families back home were starving under his corrupt rule, even as useless, solid gold shingles adorned the canopy roof in the Tyrolean Center. How many mouths could that have fed?

"Should your country ever return to the ways that would call you back home, then go in peace, to your happiness and fortune. Until that day, join me and find your happiness and fortune here, in a better Italy that you've had more than a hand in helping to create. That is the way that I go. For Italy. Not only for myself, but for you and yours, as well. _Aut Cesare! Aut nihil!_ "

All of the mercenaries in the crowd echoed back his cry as Cesare and Aebersold shook hands.


	46. In This Wretched World, A Friend

"What in the name of God in Heaven is that?"

Leonardo chuckled lightly as he reached over his shoulder for Gian's hand and gave his palm a tender kiss.

"Really, your sketches of late give me such nightmares..." Gian complained as Leonardo brought him into his playful embrace.

"Sit here and hush, now..."

"Brute! And watch your easel there, it almost tipped over..."

"Settle yourself and put your lips to better use now than scolding me..."

Seated then on Leonardo's lap with his arms wrapped about his neck Gian did as he had been commanded and lavished a deep, hungry kiss upon Leonardo's lips.

"Is that better?" Gian asked him through a smirk and a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

Leonardo answered him with another kiss.

When their lips parted Leonardo noted that the look of desire on his lover's face had been replaced with one of complete and unbridled suspicion.

"What?"

"Who has truly inspired all of this lusty agitation in you, hmm? Let me go..."

Leonardo held him fast. "Salai? What is your trouble?"

"You didn't used to get like this, you know, drawing all of these monstrous machines that no one wants to fund...I said let me go!"

"Salai—calm yourself..."

"No..." It was a struggle but he freed himself at last from his lover's embrace.

"Salai..."

"No! It's _him_ you're thinking of, I know it—don't even try to deny it," Gian said from across the room, his hand on the handle of the door leading out of Leonardo's studio.

"Will you please cease this histrionic little show—"

"The map...the dam...he _would_ be the one to help you see your chariot from hell come breathing to life at last, wouldn't he?"

"Ah, so you know what it is..." Leonardo raised a wary eyebrow at him.

"I've seen such a sketch before but you know that I have no earthly idea of your vision for its use, Leonardo, do not try me."

"Surely you have an idea—I am his military engineer, Gian, doing what I am contracted to do, after all." Leonardo's voice was full of exasperation and insult.

"Do not take that tone with me, Leonardo, you want him and I know it," Gian accused him.

"It is absolutely all in your head."

"It's all in _your_ head..and the one on your shoulders, as well..." Gian sniffed as he turned to go.

Leonardo quickly and easily breached the space between them and put his hand to the door, barring Gian's exit with his outstretched arm. "Are you quite done now?" His voice was stern but his eyes were smiling and melting Gian's very heart.

"You are more of a devil than I'll ever dare to be—stop looking at me that way..." Gian said weakly.

"I highly doubt that, Salai...come...let me educate you, since you are suddenly so very curious and unaware..." Leonardo led him to his own seat and sat Gian before his easel.

"And I have always been curious about your engineering works, Leonardo—"

"Maybe, but even more so now because of the Duke," Leonardo cut him off and gave a reprimanding look.

Gian conceded to his guilt silently as he stared defiantly back at his lover, then rolled his eyes away to look upon the easel. "What is this monstrosity?"

"You've seen it before..."

"Unfinished renderings scattered about your work desk, yes, but no idea..." Gian trailed off in disgust. "You would build such a thing and put men on it to command? One...two...three..." Gian counted the weapons on the chariot with a physical forefinger to the parchment and then counted the rest silently. "Six scythes! Four horses and two wheels! This is madness! Never mind the enemy, what havoc would this wreak for the soldiers who must drive it? And the poor horses, Leonardo...you could build such a thing?"

"That and more, dear Salai...I have designed on parchment only a fraction of the different engines and attack machines that are still locked-up...here..." Leonardo put a finger to his temple, "for safe-keeping. Infinite, Salai, infinite..."

"I believe you. How ever did you come up with such an idea? Roman chariots of old notwithstanding..."

"It started with a soup of berros, my love," he laughed lightly.

"Berros? Your favorite dish, I know, but—"

"Have you ever watched the farmers when they harvest?"

"No. I have no use for berros—or the liver flukes that come with it—I don't know how you eat the stuff."

"Thorough cleansing, that's all, and the health benefits are astounding, you know this..."

"Yes, yes, so you always say—I will decline, thank you. The harvest, Leonardo?"

"Oh, yes—I have seen more than my fair share of scything accidents at the hands of the inexperienced...not a pretty sight at all."

"I can surely imagine," Gian huffed.

"But in the hands of a master, it is indeed a sight to behold; one thought led to another: the man became a machine; one scythe became two...then four..."

"Then this..." Gian said softly as he looked from the easel to Leonardo, then back to the easel again, awestruck.

"Kings want to win at war, do they not?" Leonardo pulled up the stool that Gian had previously occupied and settled himself upon it to face him.

"And Dukes."

"For the last time, Salai—where my affections for you are concerned, Cesare Borgia is no rival of yours—"

"Ahh..." Gian held a finger up to Leonardo's lips to silence him. "Don't say something stupid now—admit that you desire him." Leonardo opened his mouth to speak. "Don't say something stupid," Gian cautioned him again.

Leonardo could not help the chuckle that erupted from him. "Yes, Salai, I desire him. Are you happy now?"

"No. But I am vindicated."

Leonardo groaned his exasperation. "He likes women, Salai, I would never act on my desire. He intrigues me more than anything—is that alright with you?"

"I told you not to say anything stupid."

"What, now?"

"That's the only reason? Because he likes women?" Gian harrumphed as he crossed his arms about his chest.

"Gian, enough quarreling—my relationship with the Duke is purely professional and I will not discuss it again. Are you going with me to Rome or not?" Leonardo asked in impatiently.

Gian was shaken abruptly out of his petulant pout. "Rome? What?"

"I asked you a week ago if you would accompany me to see the Masters..."

"Regarding that boy? Michelangelo, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Yes—yes, I would like to go."

"Good. We will leave after I confer with the Duke upon his return—he may be here tomorrow, if I remember correctly. We will be hosted by Felice della Rovere—her father has set the boy up there with her."

"She's back in Rome?"

"Yes, since the death of her husband; the Cardinal bought her deceased mother's palazzo for her and I would hazard to say that all is right again in her world."

"Well, good for her, I say; if only she'd been born a boy...she would have been spared that dreadful marriage and been _cardinal nipote_ already."

"She's doing quite well for herself being a woman, Salai. And who says being born a man is any easier? Look at what poor Michelangelo has gone through at the hands of the Cardinal—just as bad as his daughter's marriage to her brute of a husband."

"Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Salai—you've been so busy with your jealousy of Cesare Borgia that you have not heard the gossip! It should be you telling me this and not the other way around..."

"What? The suspense is unbearable! What?"

Leonardo leaned in conspiratorially toward Gian. "It seems that the boy made his first acquaintance with the Cardinal in Florence, during the trial of Savonarola..." he began, his voice hushed.

"You mean the torture, surely," Gian whispered back.

"A terrible time, indeed," Leonardo said, allowing nothing else on that particular matter.

"And? Go on..."

"By all accounts the Cardinal was more than taken with the boy..."

"della Rovere? della Rovere likes women! At least, as I have always heard..."

"della Rovere likes women—and men..."

"Well...what...the boy—what—" Gian stuttered, not knowing where to start properly with his ensuing questions.

"della Rovere raped the boy—then set himself up as his patron and installed him in his daughter's palazzo...where he can keep him under his thumb..."

"No..." said Gian, totally aghast.

"Yes. Many have tried to refute the claim although it is only talked about barely in very certain circles..."

"Of course..."

"But I would be inclined to believe it."

"Why?"

"I hear from Pinturicchio that the boy is very sullen and withdrawn—barely puts two words together for anyone. Apparently it all goes into his work—he's young but making quite an impression in Rome. We'll be looking at some of his sculptures, as I understand it."

"And he watched Savonarola burn, the hypocrite," Gian said of the cardinal with a sneer on his face.

"We all watched Savonarola burn, Gian," Leonardo reminded him gently.

"We hide from the world because we have to—but we don't hide from ourselves, Leonardo."

"The waters are difficult to navigate, my love, yes?"

"Maybe. But to take a boy like that—anyone—rape is unforgivable."

"And I agree with you."

"I hope that he will let us befriend him—he should know that he has friends in this wretched world."

"And that, my love, is one of the many reasons I love you so much..." Leonardo said before he planted a sweet kiss upon Gian's lips. "It's late—time for bed...come..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Ferrara it was well after midnight when Alfonso and Lucrezia arrived at Castello Estense and the hometown crowd was up and waiting for their return. She had smiled so much that her face actually hurt; her legs were stiff and her ankles were slightly swollen; and she was amazed at the strange tender sensation she felt on the outside of her elbow, and in the muscles of her forearm, a pain she had never felt before and had no idea how to remedy.

She had said nothing of her discomforts to Alfonso; she was thankful that she had not had to, for after his outburst in the carriage first thing that morning he hadn't said another word to her. It had been another day to marvel at just how much one could live so separate a life under such public scrutiny. To one and all, as they had adhered to the protocols of their day, they looked like a young, happy, royal couple when the sad truth was that Lucrezia was as miserable as she had ever been. All that she had been able to think of between riding, waving, smiling and stopping various times along the route to talk with dignitaries, was her family—her children; her parents; and her Cesare—that she was without, yet again. How she had managed keep from shedding tears was a mystery, even to herself.

So when they arrived in Ferrara, to the sound of church bells ringing, the blare of trumpets from the castle ramparts and her name on lips of the cheering crowd, it touched a place in her that made the tears flow beyond her control. She knew that the adoration was all really for their return of the young Duke and the elder, but she allowed herself for a moment to pretend that it was for her, as well; and when their carriage finally crossed the moat and disappeared from the bridge into the castle proper it was quite some time before she was able to pull herself together enough to exit.

Still Alfonso said nothing; offered nothing; even though he waited silently for her to comport herself she could feel his impatience, as he sat looking only at the vacant other side of the carriage before him. She had half expected him to get out and leave her, for she knew that was his truest wish, but protocol dictated otherwise, and like every other moment of that day he continued to follow it. She had taken all of the time she'd dared to take and finally they exited the carriage to greet their waiting court.

It was another hour before the formal introductions were finished, both she and Alfonso having optioned to do that in their correspondence to each other in the months long before the wedding. Of course, that had been in anticipation of happier nuptial endeavors, at the time, but as tired as she was she wanted to get it over with. One pleasant surprise for her Cardinal Bembo, whose smile and manner were appropriately subdued but whose greeting was warm and genuine and a surprising source of comfort.

The time came where she was released to her own devices; assembled then in the Government Room, she sought out her brother Gioffre, looking fairly exhausted himself, as he talked with their cousin, Cardinal Francesco Borgia.

"Brother..." she rushed into his welcoming embrace.

"You look as exhausted as I feel, sis—come to say goodnight, I'm sure?" he smiled at her and then over at Alfonso, who was watching them. Lucrezia just wanted to go and be alone with him, her sweet brother who loved her, but, of course, he was expecting for her to follow her husband.

"Yes, brother—goodnight."

"Goodnight, sis," he gave a kiss to her cheek and was then lead away with their cousin by a valet to their accommodation; as they walked out, the Duchess of Urbino and Dorotea Carracciuola were being escorted over to Alfonso by Lucrezia's new lady, Lucia Fantuzzi; Lucrezia went to stand by her husband's side to await them, silent and secretly fuming through her careful smile.

"Thank you, dear Duke and Duchess!" Elisabetta gushed at them, "I told the Duke that we could surely continue on—"

"Not another word, Duchess, for my father and I both agree: the hour is late; you have had the security of our enormous retinue—we will not see you leave here until morning and with a proper escort. Now, that is settled, yes?" Alfonso nodded at her; beside him Ercole smiled broadly at the woman.

"Yes, that is settled then," she smiled at them both and then looked appreciatively at Lucrezia, who gave her a little curtsey of recognition and agreement. "Oh, my dear Duchess!" Elisabetta took Lucrezia in hand and visited an excited kiss to her cheek; her appreciation was so genuine that Lucrezia's heart was immediately warmed; had it only been the Duchess she would have been happy to host her not only that night but for as long as she wished to visit, but the red-headed one standing beside her made that a most unwelcomed thought, indeed. She became aware suddenly that the knowing little smirk of a smile upon Dorotea's face was no longer directed at her or the old Duke, but squarely upon Alfonso.

"Duchess, are you tired or will you join me for a refreshing drink from my cellars?" Ercole asked as he held his arm out to her.

"Why, that would be lovely, Duke, for I am not tired, at all," she said as she took it. "Dorotea, will you join us, my love?"

"Thank you, _madrina_ , but I am not made of the same stuff as you—younger and weaker, so says the bible?"

Lucrezia noted that the two elders chuckled at her as Alfonso kept a steady gaze upon the woman and remained silent.

"I shall bid you all goodnight and see you in the morning..." Dorotea gave the Duchess a kiss to her cheek.

"Goodnight, my love." Elisabetta kissed her back and was then escorted away by Ercole.

"I shall show you to your room then, my Lady..." said Alfonso as he held his arm out to Cesare's whore without even a look in Lucrezia's direction. "Lucia—our Lady is acquainted with the lay of the castle, but not her new apartment—please show her to bed."

_So, he will dismiss me like a child and humiliate me even further in the bargain in front of the house and my own lady!_ Lucrezia was angry enough to spit fire but had no choice to do anything other than hold her temper.

"Lucia—you may show me my new apartment presently, for I shall join the Duke and Duchess for my refreshment, as well," Lucrezia declared boldly.

Alfonso stopped in his tracks, turned pointedly to face his wife and found the dare in Lucrezia's eyes for him to utter even one more word at her; though she was exhausted beyond measure and wanted only to find her peace and solitude under warm cover in a lonely room, she refused to allow his latest show of blatant disregard for her already much-assaulted and bruised feelings. His knowing little hint of a smile at her before he turned silently and left was worse even than any words he could have inflicted at her; Lucrezia knew exactly what the two of them were off to do and she didn't care, except for the fact that she wished that she could inform Cesare about his fickle whore and her latest conquest. _Cesare cannot possibly care for her in any way that matters, it is unthinkable..._

Lucrezia tried to ease herself with that thought as Lucia led her away to join Ercole and Elisabetta.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later found Lucrezia finally within sight of her bed, having been escorted by Lucia to her apartment in the Santa Caterina Tower. As Lucia helped her out of her gown she took in her suite, done up in lovely colors of salmon-pink, sea foam green, cream, and black; the brocades on the bed and about it were rich and feminine but somehow more than impersonal; it did not look like a room Alfonso would even be found dead in.

"Lucia, were you at court under the late Duchess?"

"I was, my Lady."

"Was this her room?"

"Oh no, my Lady, this is the east wing, she shared the apartment with the Duke, in the west wing," Lucia informed her absently as she hung Lucrezia's gown in the armoire; she caught herself too late and turned, red-faced, back to Lucrezia. "I'm so sorry, my lady, I meant no—"

"It's alright, Lucia, I did ask the question," Lucrezia sighed tiredly.

"Is there anything else that I may get for you, my Lady?" Lucia asked her in earnest, still deeply sorry for her faux pas.

_A divorce would be nice...can you bring that up to me on a silver platter?_ Lucrezia grumbled silently. "Thank you, Lucia, you are already more than a Godsend—I am more than ready to lose myself to the comforts of this fine bed."

"Very well, my Lady."

"Goodnight, Lucia."

"My Lady?" the woman began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"May I just say...well, I caught sight of you on your first visit here and was contracted straight away by my Lord to attend to you. I just want to tell how honored I am to be in your service and what a pleasure it is to have you back." She gave a small curtsey then.

Again, Lucrezia found herself deeply touched at a kindness directed genuinely at her; she went to Lucia, took her hands into her own and gave her a very appreciative kiss to her cheek. "Thank you so much for that. It is my honor to be here, Lucia."

Lucia gave her a nod and the present of her sweet smile. The woman had to know that all was not right between her and Alfonso, but only time would tell if she and Lucia would become true enough friends that Lucrezia might be able to confide in her, as well. "Thank you, again—to your own rest now, yes? It has been such a long day for us all."

"Yes, my Lady. Sleep well."

"And you."

Finally Lucrezia was alone; she got into her richly appointed bed and sank under the covers, too tired to even cry another tear. Just as she was about to drift off to sleep she heard a far-off knock upon her salon door.

"Oh, what now?" she groaned out loud as she got up, slipping on her robe as she went. Maybe it was Alfonso, coming to rub his conquest in her face—or worse. Her anger visited her immediately at the unknown intrusion, causing her delay at finding her peace in much-needed rest, and a little honest fear that her husband was on the other side ready to inflict more torment upon her. She yanked the door open forcefully, prepared for a fight.

"What do you—oh?"

It was Cardinal Pietro Bembo at her door, leveling his mischievous, smiling eyes upon her.

"Cardinal?" Her anger, still evident, was then redirected. "You are a scandal! And an opportunist, still—get out of my room."

"No, Lucrezia, I am simply still your friend. More, when you allow me to be so," he boldly declared.

"You will be my undoing if you do not leave my room this instant..." She made to close her door and he barred her from doing so.

"Your husband has abandoned you, for what reason I cannot possibly imagine; but I would be honored to give you the welcome to Ferrara that he refuses you, Lucrezia—it is so good to have you back in Ferrara, Duchess."

"Stop it, Cardinal—you dare to come to me like this? At this time of the night?"

"Morning, now..."

"Indeed—and soon the whole castle will be rife with gossip..."

"I merely come to bid you my welcome—let me in?"

"I know very well what you have come to bid me...your proper welcome was quite fine earlier this evening, Cardinal."

"Must we have this very public spat at your door? Let me in, Lucrezia..."

Lucrezia looked about the corridor then and waved him angrily in. "Make this quick and be gone from me, Cardinal," she hissed at him when she closed the door.

"I have missed you...

"Really? About that, Cardinal—why did the old Duke introduce you to me as if he did not know of your appointment in Nepi?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"The Duke is getting up in years, my Lady, he simply forgot, that is all..."

"Oh, really? He appears more than alert and aware to me."

"Trust me when I tell you that now is more than the right time for him to turn this duchy over to your husband. Will you not honor me at least with your hand to kiss, Duchess?" Bembo made to take hold of one.

"Stop this, Cardinal—can you not see my distress? Can you not see that my heart is heavy? That I am weary and need to take to my bed?"

"Can you not feel the strength of these arms about you, Duchess? Able and eager to hold that heavy heart and shield it—and the magnificent woman that it belongs to—from any that dares to attempt it further injury?"

She wanted to believe his words, wanted to find her solace in him, and felt her guilt immediately for even entertaining the thought; she was at her weakest point, a constant theme between them, she realized then, and she did not want him that way in her current frame of mind.

"You shall cause further injury to me now, Cardinal, if you do not banish that frown from upon your face..." _for you look so like Cesare when you frown._ "I...I must insist on your smiles and the playfulness of your true nature if we are to have any type of relationship at all..." she tried to reason with him.

"My love...at last..."

"No, Cardinal...not this night...I have notions in my head at this moment most unbecoming a Lady and in time I fear that I will give myself over to them—you must give me time to reconcile myself with the ghastly woman that I am becoming," she said in true despair.

Bembo gave her an angry look as he released her and then took a step away from her. "Is it ghastly to accept love, Lucrezia, from one who is free—and willing—to give his all to you? Is it ghastly to allow yourself to feel it?"

"It is when those feelings are for one who is not your husband. I am a married woman, Pietro—" she hissed her rebuke at him as she struggled to come back to herself.

"And your husband is a married man, yet does that stop him from seeking his pleasures away from his marriage bed?"

"I see, so I take up with you to spite him, is that it?"

"No—you allow me to love you as you deserve to be loved, Lucrezia."

Lucrezia turned away from him.

"Did you hear me?" he demanded of her.

"Yes...I heard you; but for all that I have done I deserve no such thing. Go away, Cardinal, this is pure folly—for you to pursue and for me to dare to entertain." Lucrezia's whole body tensed as she heard Bembo walk over and then stand perilously close behind her.

"I will agree with you—tonight—and leave you as you request, but know this: if you will insist upon my happy, smiling countenance, then I will insist upon yours, as well..." he leaned down to speak softly into her ear. "When you come to the truth that I already know—that you are deserving of all the love that your life may hold—I _will_ have your joy, Lucrezia, and be your joy, without your own feelings of guilt or self-reproach; your genuine joy—I have waited this long...I do not think I'll have to wait much longer."

Lucrezia bristled at his words but dared not turn around to face him; she could not tell from his gentle, yet adamant words if his familiar self had returned to her, but she knew that whether she found his frown or his smile leveled at her, either one would cause her to yield to sure surrender.

"We shall see about that." She managed to keep her voice even as she felt him draw away from her.

"Yes, we shall. Thank God in his Heaven that I am a patient man."

There was no doubt then what she would find if she turned to face him for she could hear the smile in his voice; she stayed rooted to her spot staring at the wall before her. "Yes, well, be that as it may I will say goodnight to you, Cardinal."

She could almost hear his smile become broader upon his face. "Goodnight, Duchess," he said and then closed the door quietly behind himself.


	47. Unbothered

"Such an imposing beard on one so young—what is the story there?"

"I deal with serious men—and I must be taken seriously."

"And this fine beard helps you to achieve that?"

"It does."

"Too bad. There is a fine face under all of that hair that the world is being cheated out of seeing."

He didn't quite know what to make of that statement. Even though her words seemed sincere he was unused to such flattery and found himself sharing a pregnant, awkward pause with her then. No woman had ever been that forward about his looks, not even his dear first wife. But Anna had understood well his need to appear as mature as he had been forced to behave; a necessary thing that he had needed to be in order to navigate within his own family and his father's duchy; if she had ever found any true disfavor with his looks she had mercifully never let him know anything about it.

Anna.

They had been so young, so ideally in love; a love that had matured in their short time together and turned to true love; his first love.

"Are you done with me now, my Lord?"

"Excuse me, what?" he asked her, slightly embarrassed at having been so completely lost in his own thoughts.

"I said, are you done with me? I've quite enjoyed your little tour about the castle, but we both know that you only squired me so indelicately away from your new bride to make her jealous."

"Is that so? The tour is not finished, you know."

"Let me guess where it ends...at the hallway entrance leading to my quarters with an absent nod, a polite handshake and a trip away to the the lady whom I have delayed her your company of?"

"And who would that be, exactly, Lady Carracciuola?"

"Why, your wife, of course. Lover's spats are so intriguing, are they not? And so soon after the wedding day, no less—but I am sure you have a remedy for that." She smiled knowingly at him.

Alfonso and Dorotea were seated before the hearth in a small dining room off of the Loggia of the Oranges.

Alfonso said nothing as he smiled back at her. "More wine, my Lady?"

"No, thank you very much, my Lord, two glasses are more than enough for me at this late hour," she said as she set her near-to-full goblet down.

"Well..." he said as he concentrated on pouring out another goblet for himself, "you do not give yourself enough credit for being a most divine and enchanting guest to host. You are surely breaking many hearts tonight with your presence here." He looked up pointedly at her, raised his glass and took a delicate sip.

"Yes, I had heard that you are a bit of a pig's arse—so nice to confirm it for myself, my Lord." Her own smile was still full of mirth.

"And I have heard that you are no stranger to rolling about in the muck and mire of swine, hmm?"

"It seems that we are well matched then."

"Do your vows mean nothing to you, my Lady..." his voice was pleasant but dripping with condescension, "...that you could abandon your husband the whole of a year only moments away from the altar? And for someone as—"

"Take care, my Lord, he is your brother-in-law, after all."

"So you admit it?"

"Hmm? Admit what, my Lord?" she chuckled then. "You are d'Este, are you not? I believe my husband's name is Carracciuola. And you are a fine one to ask such a question as your own wife sits abandoned in her own bridal suite this very moment."

"Certainly you realize what part you play in that particular situation."

"I beg your pardon? Me?"

"You know about them, don't you? No one could suffer the daggers her eyes shot at you at the banquet and not know why," he accused her.

"Yes, I know about them, what of it? He is gone; my husband awaits my return; and you both have each other. Is there something else to be said here?"

Alfonso slammed his goblet angrily upon the table and turned a menacing face at her, then moved closer to her on the divan. "Do not trifle with me—exactly how long have you been involved with him?"

"I don't know what possible business that is of yours," she answered easily, without so much as flinching at his aggressive tack against her.

"Are you in love with him?"

"Of course I'm in love with him, from the very first day I set eyes upon him; but some men—many men, and Cesare Borgia, certainly—are not meant to be held, my Lord, by any woman, no matter how much he loves her. And that is the difference between your wife and myself—I know this about him. I have a theory about them both, not that it matters."

"I would be interested to hear it."

"I will only say this: I feel sorry for them, that they were born siblings instead of not; they managed well-enough for the whole of their lives until their love took that fatal carnal turn. To you and I he seems a cad, going about his way with whomever he will; and she is forced to marry, as all women are, for the gain of others or simply their own security; but do not for a moment think that they are not involved in a constant internal fight—against their own desires and each other. He has been fighting it out with me for almost four years now, and I am happy to let him; for me, it may go on another year...it may be ended already.

"Give her a chance to mourn him and let him go—they will love each other forever, but if given enough time—if her heart is as enormous as his—and I greatly suspect that it is—then I know that there is room in it, even for you, my Lord."

Alfonso, more than intrigued, even in his anger, gave her little insult a pass. "You would be her champion?"

"I would be that and more, if she would let me. Of course, I realize that she would believe me even less than you do. But I surely would."

"Because you love him and hope that he will choose you in the end? Isn't that the real reason?" he accused her.

Dorotea let out a hearty guffaw. "It will never be me, my Lord, of that I can assure you."

"But is she not cut from the same cloth? After all that has happened do you really think that she can she truly be held by any other? Or even wants to be?"

"Oh yes, my Lord, she wants to be. Whether any of us admit it or allow it, we all want to be held; and that woman was born to be held dear."

"And what of you, then?"

"What of me?"

"How is that your love is so...magnanimous? You love Cesare Borgia, but know that you cannot hold him; it is obvious that you do not love your husband, so he shall never break your heart—in whose arms do you find your truest respite, dare I ask? Who gives you solace?"

"I am a woman in this world, dear Duke; I find respite and solace within myself, first and foremost; anything else..." she gave a heavy sigh, "...is whatever it may be."

"That sounds more than a little unsavory—and like a very lonely life, my Lady."

"No more unsavory than yours, and far from lonely, my Lord, with fine men like you about..." she reached out and gave a gentle stroke to his beard; he raised an eyebrow at her.

"May I offer you...respite...then? And an apology for my ill-towards behavior this night? You _are_ quite fetching..." Alfonso leaned closer into her, more than ready to visit his curious kiss upon her; Dorotea leaned away from him.

"I believe there are other more capable ladies of your acquaintance waiting to receive your attentions, my Lord; either that or you should go make amends with your wife."

Alfonso drew away from her in a huff. "Surely you know that it is my wife who should be making amends to me."

Dorotea rose up gracefully from the divan and made her way to the door. "I know of no such thing, my Lord, but if that is how you wish to play it..." she smiled sweetly at him. "Thank you for your hospitality; I shall give your best regards to my husband. Good night." And with that she was gone.

He got up from the divan and paced the floor before the hearth; he could certainly understand her appeal; she was a beautiful, spirited woman—a free woman, no matter the ring on her finger, and they were the worst: enthusiastic, playful lovers; as daring as men and as bold; all she needed was for her husband to die and leave her his family lands and wealth and she would turn from charming to insufferable. Insufferably desirable, he mused to himself. He thought then of his departed wife's cousin, Caterina Sforza; even the Borgia Pope's prison had not tamed her, Tigress, indeed.

As much as he admired and desired the woman who had just left him, and was taking her strange words to heart, the thought of being spurned by not one, but two, of Cesare Borgia's paramours was more than he could bear in one night; for Lucrezia was indeed alone in her bridal suite but she was not waiting for him. He thought then of his favorite whore; he had told her months before the wedding that he was going to stop seeing her; but she was a good sort and he'd set up a monthly stipend for her. She would be surprised when he knocked on her door...or maybe she would not be. It didn't matter—he knew that she would be happy to see him and at that moment, as Alfonso made his was to the stables, that was all that mattered to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning found Lucrezia feeling much less bruised of heart than when her head had hit her pillow in the wee hours of the morning earlier; she was still tired, but the bright, shining sun in the sky was a reaffirmation of her survival and her promise to herself that she would continue to do so, in spite of everything. She did feel a pang of dread as she thought back to Cardinal Bembo, foolishly endangering her reputation by coming to her door. Had anyone seen him? She hoped to God not; she would order him to be flogged herself if she caught even a whiff of scandal on the wind. The more she thought about him the angrier she got—at him and herself; had she been even more fragile of mind...she shuddered visibly when she imagined what she might have allowed herself to do had that been the case. When Lucia came to minister her, with a smile on her face as bright as the sunlight streaming through her window, Lucrezia took it as a good sign and was immediately comforted.

"Good morning, my Lady! I hope that you slept well?"

"I did, Lucia, thank you."

"Very good. Oh! You're shivering—is a window cracked?" she asked in alarm as she went to check.

"No, Lucia, I'm fine, really..."

"Are you sure? If someone left a window open I'll have them—"

"No, really, it's alright."

"Well, the hearth is lit in the bathing room and your bath is being prepared this very instant...and you shall break fast with the Duke late this morning—everyone was allowed their extra sleep because of their late hours this morning."

Lucrezia wondered if she she meant the old Duke or the younger but determined that she absolutely would not ask; either Alfonso would be there or he wouldn't. Hopefully, he wouldn't. "What time does he usually sup in the morning, Lucia?"

"Oh, daybreak, certainly, my Lady," Lucia answered her as she opened the door to a servant girl bearing fresh linens for Lucrezia's bed.

"Oh, but my linens are quite fine—"

Lucia helped Lucrezia into her robe. "You don't understand, my Lady—you see, the change in your accommodations was quite sudden—it was quite a rush to get this room ready for you—these were the linens that were supposed to be on your bed. The others were quite clean, be assured, but these are far finer than the ones we put on last night, please pardon us?"

That news made Lucrezia feel only slightly better than she had felt earlier; so he had gotten word to them at the last minute; she still had to endure the shame of the separate-bedroom situation. _So what?_ She thought suddenly. _So what. I was unbothered in my bed and so be it._ She smiled at Lucia then.

"Thank you, Lucia, and how do you fare this morning?"

"Oh! Thank you, my Lady, I feel quite rested and refreshed. I saw the Duchess and her ward off this morning—they did leave at daybreak—and she told me impart to you her thanks at your hospitality and offered her invitation for you to join her as soon as you may be disposed to do so—" Lucia held out two sealed parchments to her.

"There are two here?"

"Yes, the other is from Lady Carracciuola, inviting you to Venice."

_That will be a cold day in hell_ , Lucrezia fumed silently as she read the missive from the Duchess. "Thank you, Lucia," she managed a smile at the woman as she handed them back to her.

Lucia gave her a little curtsey. "To your bath, then..." she smiled as she led Lucrezia away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Lucrezia was preparing for the breakfast banquet, her brother in Cesena was taking his first meeting of the day.

Cesare and Micheletto had arrived promptly at sun-up and were escorted to Leonardo's studio by the ever-displeased, but beautiful, countenance of Gian Caprotti da Oreno.

"This way..." he sneered in Micheletto's general direction as he led them, his gait full of impertinence, from the front door of the palazzo to the third floor studio. Cesare, amused to no end, watched the pair of them through a knowing little smirk, as he noted Gian, who kept turning back with unmasked contempt, going out of his way to avoid any actual eye contact with them; and Micheletto, who kept his steely, more than unamused glare, trained on the lovely malcontent, as the challenge for the man to say even one wrong word burned in his eyes.

At one point Gian looked back and let his eyes linger long enough to drink the Captain in fully and then did a double take. Everyone went on and on about how handsome the Borgia Bastard was, and both of them, attired in their fresh, black velvet doublets, leather breeches, and their imperious black capes were quite a sight to behold; but the red-haired murderer seemed especially fetching to him that morning, he had to admit in spite of himself. When he turned around again, he caught not only eyes looking at him, so blue that they almost made him sea-sick, but one of Micheletto's eyebrows raised ominously at him, as well; Gian snapped his head back around and willed himself to keep his gazed fixed before him.

Cesare looked at Micheletto, who kept his eyes trained on Gian, then turned away and hung his head. From the corner of his eye Micheletto could see Cesare's soft, long curls swaying ever so gently as he lightly shook his head at the pair of them, and then the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He was not amused, evidenced then by his intense and unappreciative gaze leveled at Cesare. Cesare ignored him, managing to comport himself; he stifled the threat that was the chuckle seeking its explosive release as Gian opened the the studio doors. At last they were standing before Leonardo.

"Your Excellence! Captain! Welcome back!" he began jovially. "Congratulations on the marriage of your sister."

"Thank you. And how are you, sir?"

"I'm well—very well—and have something quite fantastic to show you both..." Leonardo's gaze became a question as he took in the three men before him: the angry-looking Captain, whose very silence was caustic; the amused Duke, shifting agitatedly from side to side on his feet as he struggled, apparently, to hold a serious composure; and his Salai, who stood back at the door refusing to cast his eyes upon any of them. "Anyone care to let me in the joke?" He looked to each man for some sort of explanation and found none. "Your Excellence?"

Unable to speak just yet Cesare gave an apologetic little nod of his head and stood a little taller as he tried to wave his amusement away with a pass of his hand; he dared not look at his still angry Captain.

"Well then—please come see this..." The drawing that Leonardo showed him then brought Cesare to full and serious attention.

"What is this? A...carriage...scythes? And cannon..." Cesare let out an incredulous guffaw. "You can build this?"

"Why does everyone ask me that?" Leonardo asked, slightly miffed. "Yes, Your Excellence, I can build it," he smiled.

"Everyone? Who else has seen this?" Cesare asked.

"Gian, of course; I have shown a version, very scaled-down, mind you, to the Venetians, who scoffed not only at me but also the cost to manufacture."

"Yes...the cost..." Cesare murmured his thoughts out loud, "not insurmountable...just one of these on the battlefield...can you imagine? The psychological damage alone...would be well worth it..."

In the back of the room Gian yawned loudly and found himself suddenly under the indignant and scrutinizing glare of the other three men directed at him.; Cesare turned back to the sketch upon the easel.

"I must have at least one of these—in any incarnation, Leonardo—I'll secure the funds."

As Leonardo and Cesare discussed further particulars Micheletto sauntered surreptitiously about the studio perusing Leonardo's other works that he had already seen before; finally he ended up beside the man leaning then upon the door staring insolently at his every move.

"Salai, they call you..." Micheletto hissed at him as he leaned beside him at the other side of the door.

"Yes...what of it?" Gian crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

"You keep looking at me like that, Salai..." Micheletto crossed his arms over his own chest and stared straight ahead over the top of Gian's head, "and I'm going to start believing that you mean it."

"Don't flatter yourself, Captain," he huffed as he feigned boredom; secretly, his pulse was racing and his legs were going weak; he heard the smirk in Micheletto's low, gruff, groan above him as he pushed himself away from the door. As he watched Micheletto go to rejoin the other men again, Gian knew, in no uncertain terms, that he was in trouble.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Lucrezia's relief Alfonso was not at the breakfast banquet. "Business, my dear," Ercole had waved her inquiry away with a smile when she had dared to make it; she went on to enjoy his company and that of her brother, Gioffre, who would spend one more night and make his way to Nepi to following morning.

"I have heard of your great skill at settling property disputes, my dear—I would like for you to come to town with me today and sit in on a dispute before the Governor. Will you honor me?" he asked her presently.

"Oh, it would most definitely be my honor, my Lord. Has Gioffre been bending you ear about me?"

"Why, no—our dear Cardinal Bembo told me about your triumphs when he returned to court last year..."

Lucrezia hid her shock well; so he had been telling the truth, after all—the old Duke had indeed appeared to have had a small memory lapse, but how serious was it? She was sure that she would never really know, for Alfonso was making it quite clear what type of marriage she was to endure, and it was certainly not one that included the presence of her husband, let alone the sharing of information between them, personal or otherwise.

"...and she will be looking forward to it." she heard Ercole saying then.

Across the table from her Gioffre had seen that his sister had not been listening and worried at her inattention.

"That should be quite a lovely trip, sister, that you will be taking to Mantua next month..." he prodded her, "I wish that I could go with you..." he gave her a little nod.

"Oh, yes...that will be most exciting, to meet my new sister-in-law," she managed.

"Alright then, my dear, let us finish up here and make our way to town, yes?"

"Yes, my Lord."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's wrong, sis? Are you alright?"

Lucrezia was spending the last few precious hours of the evening with her brother before he had to retire for his trip away in the morning.

"I'm fine, my love; maybe a bit overwhelmed...and missing you already even though you are not yet even gone."

Gioffre scooted closer to her on the settee and gathered his sister into his embrace. "And I love you, too."

"I don't mean to be a bother, I know that you will be quite busy—but will you write to me immediately upon your return to Nepi and tell me how the boys are? I shall not expect it of you—"

"Hush, sis—of course I will; I cannot promise you a letter every week, but between Maria and myself you shall have news as often as possible of Giovanni and Rodrigo, hmm? I wouldn't be surprised if Miracella has not already put one to post herself."

"Thank you, my love, I do appreciate you so."

"Alfonso is truly a busy man, huh sis? Not at the breakfast banquet or dinner this evening..."

"Yes, apparently."

"Well, they do have three more cities to minister to..."

"Yes, my dowry has made the d'Este's quite happy," Lucrezia began bitterly, "two cities, a harbor town—the reduction of their annual tribute to the Church, and Alfonso's brother installed now at Saint Peter's—one hundred thousand ducats—how in the world was father able to marry me at all?"

"Lucrezia—what is going on? I thought that you were set for your happiness, at last—where is Alfonso, really? Is there some other reason that he has not been present, my love? You can tell me."

The alarm in her brother's voice did not comfort her. "I do not wish to have you worrying about me, Gioffre; I am fine—acclimating to my new life, that's all; my husband is busy, but I am blessed with a father-in-law..." _whose affection has been bought and paid for, several times over_ "...who shows me nothing but kindness—I am fine, brother, truly. The hour is late and I must leave you to your rest."

"Lucrezia..."

"I am fine—goodnight, brother, I shall see you off in the morning—I am torn between my joy at having you here and at you going home to take loving care of my children. Sleep well, Gioffre..." she gave him a kiss and a hug.

"Goodnight, my love."

Lucrezia retired to her room, exhausted physically and emotionally; at least she would have more sleep than she had the night before. She had not seen Alfonso or Cardinal Bembo all day and for that she was thankful. Anyone that dared to knock upon her door in the dead of that night, or any other, would be met by her with the blade, resting at that very moment under her pillow, given to her by her Cesare, and find their blood mingling upon it with dried blood of Giovanni Sforza's.


	48. Without Apology

Refreshed from a full night of sleep, Lucrezia awakened the next morning in fair mood and disposition; her sleep had not been disturbed, her dreams she could not remember and even the advent of her brother's departure caused her no melancholy. She found herself actually looking forward to what the new day held for her and was surprised when she realized that her first waking thought had not been of Cesare.

"There may yet be hope for me..." she muttered to herself out loud through a languorous stretch and a loud yawn after she sat up in her bed. She had given instructions to be awakened in time to dress and see her brother off, but she was happy to note that the sun had not yet risen and that her own happy anticipation of Gioffre reuniting with his beloved nephews was a better herald to the day than any servant employed to knock upon her door. When the girl did come Lucrezia was up, in her robe and preparing to go the the bathing room.

"Oh! My Lady! I did not mean to be late," her nervous young maid exclaimed when she came into Lucrezia's bedchamber.

"No, you are on time, I am early—only apologize to me if you tell me that my bath is not ready," Lucrezia smiled at the girl.

"Oh, no, my Lady, your tub is filled, hot and waiting for you," the girl curtsied her assurance at her.

"Very good—do calm down, I am only excited to see my brother..." Lucrezia gave the girl's hand a little pat as she passed her.

"Yes, my Lady, I'm sure." The girl smiled her relief as she rushed away behind her brisk-walking charge.

When Lucrezia returned to her room she found Lucia waiting for her.

"Good morning, my Lady!"

"Good morning, Lucia, and how are you today?"

"Very well, thank you. I see that you have two gowns laid out—which would you like to wear?"

"I think the emerald green suits me today..."

"Very good, let's get you dressed, then..." she said brightly as she began to do just that. "Your brother and Cardinal Borgia are still in the banquet hall having their repast with the Duke, my Lady, you have time to eat something, yourself."

Lucrezia noticed, of course, that Lucia said nothing of Alfonso, and again found that her pride would not allow her to ask of him. "Oh, no, Lucia, maybe I will have my appetite after they are gone, I shall just be happy to sit and join them."

"Very good, I'll inform cook—now, your hair..."

"There's no time, I shall just leave it loose, Lucia..."

"Yes, your curls are so lovely..." the woman said in true admiration.

"Thank you—I think the gold bonnet there will compliment nicely, hmm?"

"Oh yes..." Lucia said as she placed it delicately upon Lucrezia's head and tied the ruby-encrusted satin ribbon around her forehead to hold it in place. "Just lovely. You do look most lovely—you had a better night's sleep, I trust?"

"I did, thank you—I didn't think it was possible but the new bed linens felt ever more wonderful than the ones they replaced, Lucia; I felt as if I was sleeping upon the very clouds in the sky," Lucrezia marveled.

"I'm so glad to hear it. There is an artisan that we have been using to spin the threads for these linens since our Dear Duchess Eleanor was a young girl herself; the woman is old but has passed her skill on to her own daughters."

"What a lovely tradition."

"Yes, my Lady," Lucia smile proudly.

"Alright then, not another moment to waste?" Lucrezia smiled brightly as she led the way on eager feet to the banquet hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So...is there word? Is a date set yet?"

"No; their trepidation is a good sign that their confidence is sorely lacking, I think, no matter how eagerly della Rovere tries to rally them."

"We hope."

Micheletto grunted his own contemplation as he continued to peruse the missives that he had stolen out of the palazzo before dawn to retrieve from one of his own men.

They were in Cesare's suite, one of the two that had been graciously appointed them for their overnight stay at da Vinci's; Micheletto's night had been such a busy one, however, that he had not set foot inside of his even once.

"Did you learn anything from your new friend last night," Cesare asked him with a knowing smirk upon his face.

"Many things—words stream from his lips like water from a fountain when his nerves are on edge...some of them even useful."

"And you found that out how?"

"How else? By keeping him nervous."

Cesare laughed out loud. "I can only imagine. And what did you find out?"

"He leaves with da Vinci for Rome after we depart...to go and conference with the Masters regarding Michelangelo."

"So?"

"They will be hosted by the daughter of Michelangelo's patron..."

Cesare waited with a look of confusion on his face. "What do we care of Michelangelo's patron?"

"Felice della Rovere."

"Felice? Really..." Cesare was more than surprised.

"It appears that the Cardinal's interest in the boy is more than professionally inclined."

Cesare raised an eyebrow.

Micheletto gave a nod.

"The hypocrite...traitor to everyone."

Micheletto nodded again.

"Was there anything else?"

"Our friend continues to play both sides of the fence—no matter what his lips say he still has a very soft spot for his Medici's; the word is he that is working on a tome..."

"So? That's what he does, what is so special about that?"

"It is about you, Cesare."

Cesare let out an unbelieving little guffaw. "Me? What on God's Earth could he be writing about me?"

"No one knows the content, but you are most assuredly the inspiration and the Medici's are his certain audience; according to my nervous little Salai it is all of the talk—a lingering ripple effect resulting from the many speculations regarding the demise of Ramiro d'Orco—and the last few dispatches he's got through to Florence—he doesn't know what to trust anymore, where you are concerned, and the Medici's know it."

"Good."

"You should tread very carefully with him, Cesare."

"I always have, my friend—and he awaits us, hmm?"

Micheletto nodded.

"Then let us go and bid our host farewell..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A half-hour later Cesare and Micheletto had been greeted by Machiavelli and ushered to his, by then, very familiar study. As was customary for Micheletto he remained standing at the door while Cesar and Machiavelli took their seats across the table from each other.

"Your Excellence, so good to see you back in Cesena. Congratulations on the happy marriage of your dear sister."

"And my sincerest thank you," Cesare gave a smile and a humble bow of his head; just then a servant came with goblets and a carafe of wine on a silver platter, set it silently on the table between them and commenced to pouring; after he had served the guest and then his master he took a goblet to Micheletto, who promptly declined with an irritated wave of dismissal at the boy, his eyes and ears trained closely upon the two at the table.

"I understand that you wish to discuss the King and his strange Treaty of Grenada?"

"Ah, you are a busy man, Your Excellence, and so I do understand the need to...cut to the chase."

Cesare was not fazed one bit at Machiavelli's little rebuke.

"I thought that you would," he smiled at him.

"Yes, well, he is having his troubles."

"With Pisa, you mean, of course."

Machiavelli gave a little nod of his head.

"Yes, well, the Pisans are not to be discounted, by any measure."

"Apparently not."

"I do not mean any slight to our good King or our beloved Florence, Machiavelli, but all that I know of warfare I learned in Pisa...as duplicitous as it may sound, I still must say bravo to them."

"Oh, no offense taken, Your Excellence, for your ultimate goal is to wrest away control of foreign domination over Italy, yes? I would say that you simply understand that there is little difference between obstacle and opportunity and seek to turn either situation to your advantage. This treaty is proof that our dear King has not yet learned this lesson and manages only to stand very much in his own way."

"And who would you say this to, Machiavelli? I do believe, and understand well, that you still have a very soft spot in your heart for the Medici's."

"Duplicity is a trait of many men, is it not, Your Excellence?" Machiavelli raised his glass as well as a sly smile upon his face at Cesare.

Cesare returned the gesture with a wary smirk upon his own. "Indeed."

There were questions both men wanted to ask of each other but dared not tip their hands in any one direction or the other: Cesare wanted to know if Machiavelli had any insights to offer about Magione for he still had not received the promised French troops from King Louis; more than that he wanted to verify Micheletto's assurance that his twenty-five hundred German mercenaries were still his best-kept secret, for the assumption was that all he had at hand in Imola was a motley group of broken lances; he wanted to know if _Il Salaino_ had held his tongue and that no word of da Vinci's war chariot from hell had escaped the confines of his master's palazzo; he wanted to know what in hell Machiavelli could possibly be writing about him and for what purpose; but in regards to that and the other questions tormenting him at that moment he found it necessary to still his tongue and his curiosity.

Machiavelli was curious to know if da Vinci had seen enough of Cesare's treachery and was yet ready to abandon his brief career as military engineer and get back to his own true life; he wondered how long Florence would tolerate the Borgia's cunning, for he knew that Cesare was intercepting his dispatches to Florence and editing them, and he knew that Cesare knew that he knew it; he could have enjoyed the little game that they played, for he genuinely liked Cesare Borgia and saw in him the abilities of leadership that were lacking so very prominently in the born Sons of Rome—if only he had been born the same and not the son of the Spanish Pope all of Italy would have easily rallied behind him; and Machiavelli's own truest allegiance was to Florence, his beloved Florence.

Both men looked at each other closely, realizing that they had reached a stalemate, a fork in the road leading them onward in very different directions; a path where there was no longer any shared usefulness to one or the other in any form or fashion.

"Well then..." Cesare rose from his seat, "I'm afraid that this is where we must leave it," he said as gave a sincere bow of regret at his host.

Machiavelli rose from his own seat and came around the table to meet his friendly adversary. "I find it hard not to wish you success, Cesare Borgia, for so many reasons that could very well surprise you."

"I do understand, Machiavelli. It has been my honor to know you at all, let alone be privy to your wise counsel. Thank you, sir. I do wish you, very sincerely, well."

Machiavelli gave him a warm smile as he escorted him to his Captain at the door. "Captain," he gave a nod at Micheletto.

"My Lord."

Machiavelli was about to close the study door when he thought better of it and called out to Cesare before he disappeared from sight. Cesare gave a questioning look at Micheletto before he turned around to face him.

"You are the newest Prince in the land: by one's own power, Cesare Borgia, but never forget the will of the people...do you remember?"

"I do—I will not forget," Cesare assured him solemnly with a nod, then turned and continued his brisk pace away.

Cesare and Micheletto were outside of the palazzo and about to mount their horses before either man dared to utter a word.

"He struggles within himself over his desire for revenge against the Medici's and his truest love of Florence," said Micheletto gruffly under his breath through tightly clenched teeth.

Cesare leveled his gaze at Micheletto under furrowed brows but said nothing more as they rode off for Imola.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia had not been in her seat at the banquet table even five minutes before Alfonso came in to join the group assembled there; to her surprise he not only acknowledged her but came to her seat, took her hand and gave the back of it a chaste and respectful kiss before he took a seat of his own.

"Good morning to you all and please excuse my absence, my Lord Gioffre...Cardinal Borgia—I had a matter to attend to in the stables and also the foundry..."

"That's my son, there..." Ercole declared proudly to them all, "he could have been a master engineer himself...he's just as happy commanding the forge as he is Ferrara!" he let out a pleased, hearty chuckle.

Alfonso's face turned red as he gave his father an uncomfortable look. "Father, do calm yourself..."

"Oh! I hate modesty! My Lady—" he directed himself at Lucrezia then, "Your husband has ever been a wonder at all that he has ever undertaken...but then, I don't have to tell you, eh?" he ribbed her then.

It was Lucrezia's turn at her cheeks flushing beet red as her smile faded and she looked away from the old man, stricken with pure embarrassment.

"Father, really—did you take ale already this morning?" his son asked him angrily. "Lucrezia, please for—"

"Ah! Do not apologize for me," he began belligerently. "Can't an old man be happy, anymore!"

"Of course, father, but to be so indelicate..." it was Alfonso's brother, Cardinal Ippolito d'Este speaking then, who was set to leave with Gioffre and Cardinal Francesco Borgia for his new post as archipresbyter of Saint Peter's. "You shall have your hands full as ever, brother..."

"Do not talk about me as if I am a child, and worse—as if I am not present!" Ercole complained at them both.

Alfonso rose from his seat and went to his father to help him out of his own chair. "Then act like a father, dear Duke, who is indeed present, hmm?" He spoke softly and with great love into the old man's ear. "The morning is growing late and our family must be on their way..."

Everyone rose from the table then.

"Well, brother, I shall miss you greatly," Lucrezia gave her brother a loving hug and kiss to his cheek.

"And I you, sis; I shall write you straight away about the boys upon my return to Nepi, on that be assured," he smiled down at her.

"Do give them all my love—Maria...Miracella..."

"Of course, my love, and huge hugs and many kisses from mama to the boys."

"Thank you my, love. Godspeed and a safe journey to you all...Cardinal Borgia...Cardinal d'Este..."

"Thank you, my Lady," Ippolito smiled warmly at her.

"Thank you cousin," Francesco kissed her cheek.

"The offer is extended to you all, but Gioffre, when you have the opportunity, please come visit again?"

"Of course, brother-in-law, I shall take you up on that," he beamed at Alfonso.

It was nine o'clock when the three of them set off with their escort of six hundred cavaliers; Lucrezia, Alfonso and Ercole had gone to the Lion's Tower to watch their procession away.

Lucrezia hadn't seen Alfonso since their first night back and his close proximity as he stood behind her made her uneasy. All of his gallantry for her had been a show, to put her brother at ease and ensure that his reports to her family would be happy ones—she was not fooled for a moment; it was all that she could do to keep her body from shivering her disgust at him, enduring him only for the sake of his father who seemed to be growing genuinely keener on her with each passing day.

For his part Alfonso found her discomfiture deliciously and viciously enjoyable.

"Well, daughter, there is much to do, hmm? Tonight we will have a banquet feast in your honor; before the banquet you will honor us with your first grand gesture of charity by releasing some of the tamer and now-reformed prisoners back into the population..." he began excitedly.

"Excuse me, what?"

"It is a custom here in Ferrara for every new Lady of the manor, Lucrezia," Alfonso informed her then.

"Oh...I see." Lucrezia was still a bit bewildered.

"Alfonso, your bride was a wonder at town hall yesterday—a born arbitrator! You must learn the Ferrarese Regulations of the Commissariat, my Lady; and the Municipal and Sumptuary Laws—and of course, all of our Administrations of Justice—a born arbitrator, Alfonso! A joy to behold, she was! Our dear Cardinal Bembo did not do justice to all of your skills..."

"Well, Nepi was a small comune, my Lord, mostly land disputes were all that I heard—far different from this lovely and bristling city," she replied humbly. "Your podesta here is much more than I've ever been acquainted with, even in the Holy City; and in Nepi it was only the Mayor and a handful of merchant volunteers who served as police..."

"Yes, my son here is working on a passport system, my dear; we have had quite an influx of immigrants over the past thirty years, our population has almost doubled in that time—many, many lawless and undesirable individuals, you see; we must keep order—the ceremony that you will perform tonight is a high honor for those that have been deemed rehabilitated and ready to re-join society again—lesser offenders, to be sure, but ready to be responsible, law-abiding citizens again."

"Would you explain your—passport system, you said?"

"Carmen and boatmen would be required to escort strangers directly to the police upon arrival here, you see," Alfonso spoke up then. "The new edict is only proposed now but it will be instituted at my behest very soon; one soldo will go to the podesta upon entrance and another on exit from the city; one half of each soldo will go to the police and other half to the ducal chamber; citizens harboring a stranger will incur a fine of one hundred scudi if they don't report them to the police. I assure you that it is most necessary, Lucrezia."

"I do not doubt it, my Lord."

"Yes, well, enough of that for now—there is much to do with this early, beautiful morning! You are well and fit...we must ride out to the lodge—I would so enjoy the truffle hunt this morning! You haven't been acquainted yet with my lovely bitches—my fine sable Lagottos—you will absolutely love them, Lucrezia—come, my dear..." Ercole beamed at her as he held out his arm and led her away from Alfonso without apology.

Alfonso watched them both in silent amusement as his befuddled bride disappeared from sight.


	49. Two Can Play This Game

After the truffle hunt in the Coparius Lucrezia and Ercole spent only enough time at the lodge to prepare for the return to Ferrara.

"Well, my dear, we've gotten ourselves quite a haul, eh?" Ercole smiled joyously at her; he handed his very light basket over to the cook when they reached the kitchen.

"All of the morning's work, fighting through the oaks for a handful of tubers—" she said with a little frown as she handed over her own little basket to the cook.

"Ah, but these are white truffles, dear Lucrezia, and this 'handful of tubers', as you call them, would fetch a hefty price at market—fortunately for us we shall enjoy the benefit of the greatest prize they may yet yield on the banquet table tonight!"

It was impossible for Lucrezia not to take joy in her father-in-law's delight; she'd had a dish of black truffles once in her life and did not like them at all, digging around in the mud and the cold for them even less; but she grudgingly admitted to herself that the hike about the grounds had been good exercise for her body and her lungs. More than that, the very best part of the whole endeavor had been the new friend she'd made in the form of the spry, young Lagotto pup—a dark brown fourteen month-old named Princess—that Ercole called his "Sable Beauty".

"Here you go, girls..." he said as he collected scraps for the dogs from the cook's apprentice. "I see that Princess won't let you out of her sight—here, my Lady, she'll love getting this from you..." Ercole handed Lucrezia a treat for the dog. "She's the granddaughter of my own Isabella's dog, you see; she's passed on, of course, and mama Miele is too old to hunt these days. No, it's up to these three sisters now..." he smiled at them all proudly as he treated the other two spirited pups, both waiting excitedly for his favors.

Lucrezia knelt down to reward Princess with her treat, as well as the stroke of her hand across her curly coat. "They are all so very beautiful..."

"Wonderful watch dogs— _magnificent_ with children..." Ercole beamed down at her with a knowing look.

Lucrezia rose and gave him a little smile. "Yes, my Lord."

Ercole managed only barely to turn his twinkling eyes away from her. "Boy—"

"Yes, my Lord?" The apprentice jumped to attention from the counter where he was helping the cook in cleaning the truffles.

"See our girls out to the groomer, hmm?"

"Yes, my Lord..." The boy collected the dogs and herded them away.

"Come, Lucrezia, Lady Lucia awaits you to help you prepare for the ride back..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia was a great success at the banquet that night, but as was becoming his habit it would be the last that she would of Alfonso again for the week. It mattered not to her for she had a new companion, the loving brown Lagotto pup named Princess, that upon return to Ferrara refused to leave Lucrezia's side. Ercole had been correct about her being a good watch dog; though Cardinal Bembo had done well to keep his distance he tried her door again one night only to be met by the low, menacing growl of her new protector.

"Surely you would not growl at the master of the house..." she whispered to Princess; she gave her a calming pat to the head before she went to her door. "Who's there?"

"My Lady, only your humble servant, Cardinal Bembo..."

"It is late, Cardinal—unless you bear news of some dire emergency you will have to take up you business with me in the morning," she called through the door.

"My Lady..."

Just then Princess walked closer to the door, growling loudly the whole of the way, then gave one very decisive bark at it.

"Good night, Cardinal."

Lucrezia heard Bembo walk away from the door.

"Thank you, Princess...that's my very good girl..." she smiled into the dog's fur as she hugged her neck gently. "You shall save me from a certain act of murder..." she cooed at the dog before she rose up from her; she went to bedroom, took the dagger from under her pillow and returned it to its place in her locked cassone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Because her spirits had been buoyed by a prompt report from Gioffre regarding her children, Lucrezia, much to Ercole d'Este's delight, indeed took his suggestion to heart and immersed herself in studying the laws and Regulations of Ferrara; she spent many evenings seeking his counsel and edification and filled many late nights absorbed in happy research.

Ercole was more than aware that his son and daughter-in-law were experiencing some discord between each other but he did not question his son or interfere in any manner, for he knew that such matters had a way of working themselves out. He realized that his unbridled excitement and mention of grandchildren made Lucrezia uncomfortable and stopped doing so, but he felt that every day was bringing them closer together and he hoped that Lucrezia was taking as much comfort in him as he was taking in her.

Lucrezia found that where Alfonso was absent, and more than silent when he was present, Ercole was a fount of information and a willing historian; he spoke often—lovingly an easily—of his departed wife, the Duchess Eleanora and his beloved late daughter, Beatrice; and even of the heartbreak that was his bastard son, Giulio. Through her father-in-law's many family stories and other recollections Lucrezia was learning not only about Ferrara, but about her husband, as well.

Those first weeks passed quickly and soon Lucrezia found herself close to her trip to Mantua, where she would finally meet the Marquess, Francesco Gonzaga, and the Marquessa, her sister-in-law, Isabella. She had written several letters to Isabella that had gone unanswered and the rebuff had been painful for her. She had decided that it had been just as well—it was easier to deal with one who was a known enemy than an enemy who smiled in one's face as if they were a friend. Lucrezia was not looking forward to the trip at all but gave no indication or testimony to Ercole or her husband, even remotely intimating as much. She imagined that they all corresponded with each other and knew of her distress, anyway. Ercole would not be as indelicate to mention it, and Alfonso would not care, she had convinced herself. As the day had grown closer her paranoia had grown more intense and she was sure that Alfonso and Isabella not only discussed her negatively but laughed at her, as well, and the thought of them doing so made the trip looming imminently before her a very dreaded one.

It was the morning before their departure; the only occasion, since her return from the Coparius that Princess was not at her feet, was when she was collected for grooming and that morning was such a one where Lucrezia was alone in the library. She was reading about the history of the duel, which she had never witnessed with her own eyes but soon would, when Cardinal Bembo interrupted her solitude and came in to join her.

"My Lady."

"You come in without knocking, Cardinal? How overly-familiar of you," she said icily when she looked up from the parchment she was reading.

"I shall miss you on your trip away, my Lady," he smiled at her then.

Lucrezia gave him a look of suspicious regard. "Humph." She rolled her eyes and went back to reading.

"I've only come to warn you about the Marquess, my Lady."

"What on God's earth are you talking about, Cardinal," she asked him with an impatient sigh, still refusing to look at him. "What could you possibly know about the Marquess that would matter to me?"

"I have been in his company before, I assure you—a frottola or two at court with Tromboncino, of course...you must be sure to give him a wide berth—he has a wandering eye and a very untamed spirit."

"His eyes may wander all that they like, it will not mean anything to me, thank you, Cardinal."

"I think not, my Lady; I predict that he will be smitten with your beauty—his wife is a cow and only associates with other cows so that her husband will not be tempted."

"What are you talking about, Cardinal?" Lucrezia threw her parchment down angrily upon the table. "I understand that the Marquessa is most lovely; that her knowledge of art and politics...is simply wondrous."

"No doubt you've heard this from her own father. Her knowledge is, indeed, too wondrous—her own husband is jealous of her. But her beauty?" Bembo screwed up his face and gave an animated shrug of his shoulders at her, "Not so much."

"What is the point to this visit, Cardinal?"

"To remind you that, though your husband may be inattentive, he is a jealous man—and the Marquess is much less discerning than what you are used to."

"Oh!" Lucrezia stood up from the table and stomped her foot in great consternation. "Stop talking in riddles and explain what you are about, Cardinal."

"The word is that the Marquess may very well be a victim of the French Disease, my Lady...he is... _favored_...by many beautiful women at court and otherwise—he traffics in whores, you see, and—"

"Whores? Really? And don't you all? My husband traffics in whores, but I don't sleep with him and I won't sleep with the—" the words had come angrily out of her mouth before Lucrezia could stop them and she turned away from Bembo in shame.

Bembo wanted to go to her...embrace her—dare to comfort her—but he stayed firmly where he stood.

"I am your friend, remember? I thought that you should know, my Lady, for he is a charming rogue and very persuasive."

Lucrezia turned to face him. "You think that I can be... _persuaded_? You must think me very weak, then. I do not appreciate that, Pietro."

"I know that you are not weak, Lucrezia, for you have resisted me, have you not? I simply come to caution you—do not allow yourself to be alone with him, that's all." Bembo was not smiling and for the first time in weeks she was truly paying attention to what he had to say.

"Is he that unsavory? Is he a brute? What else do you know, Pietro, that his wife and my own husband do not?"

"I know that the brother and sister are close; I know that the father has not seen the daughter for quite some time; I know that you are neglected here in Ferrara of your husband's attention and that it will be very much the same in Mantua—do not allow yourself to be left alone with the Marquess, Lucrezia," Bembo concluded very pointedly.

"Is there nothing about my life here that is truly private, Pietro?" she asked him in great anguish then.

"Not from the ones who truly care about you, Lucrezia," he answered her solemnly.

"Why does that not comfort me, Pietro?" Her tone was full of sarcasm and despair.

"Just promise me that you will take care, Lucrezia."

"Oh, yes—" she gave him a defiant look, "I promise."

Bembo opened his mouth as if he had something else to say, then thought better of it; he gave her a little nod then took his leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully the ride to Mantua was short; as was usual Lucrezia shared few words with her husband and the tension between them was ever present, but Ercole's presence, and happy service as tour guide of the Lombardy countryside, was a happy and informative distraction. Five hours later the morning sun had still shown no desire to break through the clouds, content to keep its glory unto itself; as such, when the party crossed the bridge between Lago di Mezzo and Lago Inferiore they were greeted first by the piercing calls of loons, echoing at one another through the roiling mists on the lakes; as the Palazzo Ducale slowly came into view Lucrezia found the entire atmosphere both beautiful and haunting.

"The Palazzo is surrounded by three lakes, my Lady—we are passing between the middle and the lower; you shall have a better view from Castello di San Giorgio of the upper lake and the fourth—well, it's actually more of a swamp, the Pajolo—but combined they present a literal circle of defense against any mainland aggressors..." Ercole smiled at her.

"It is most breath-taking."

"You are going to love it, here, dear Lucrezia! I cannot wait for you to meet Isabella!" Ercole gave her hand a reassuring pat.

Somehow Lucrezia managed to keep a skeptical look from her face—at least, she hoped that she had; still Alfonso was silent, lost in his own thoughts and concerns which Lucrezia could not even begin to guess at. When the carriage came at last to its stop in the courtyard both men bounded out of it excitedly and then helped her out. When Lucrezia's feet touched the ground and she was safely afoot the two men turned away to see Isabella awaiting them; one look at their gazes upon her and Lucrezia felt quite effectively, and already, abandoned.

The Marquess and Marquessa approached them then, both done up in regal ermine-lined robes and colors of black and gold; Francesco was smiling, but Isabella had an unmistakable look of perturbance upon her own face.

"Happy greetings to you all!" Francesco stepped up to them first with a bow to the old Duke and Alfonso and then a kiss to the back of Lucrezia's hand. "Sister-in-law—it is my honor to meet you and introduce you to my own lovely wife—Lucrezia d'Este, please meet our Marquessa, Isabella Gonzaga..." Francesco took his wife's hand in his free one to usher his lady forth.

Both women curtsied at each other.

"You must pardon my ill humor, my Lady, for we have had a most unpleasant event unfold, I'm afraid..."

"Isabella, not now..." Francesco pleaded at her, a frown replacing his gregarious smile from before.

"No, it must be dealt with—the whole situation has ruined almost all of my plans," she snapped back him.

Francesco gave a heavy sigh. "Not _all_ of your plans, my love, now really..."

"Sister, what is it?" Alfonso asked her then in great alarm.

"It is Bartolomeo Tromboncino, you see..." Francesco spoke up then, "...he has fled the city," he explained to them all. "Do calm yourself, Isabella; I doubt that he would venture to Milan at this time—I would hazard that he is either in Pavia or Vicenza, by now...although I cannot imagine what he has done that could be worse than murdering his wife..."

"What is this? He murdered his wife?" Lucrezia asked incredulously.

"Two years ago and he was pardoned," Isabella answered stiffly.

Lucrezia was more than taken aback at Isabella's defense of the man. "Pardoned? For murder?"

"He did catch his wife in the adulterous embrace of another man, my Lady..." Francesco said then.

"Oh! I remember her! Beautiful girl she was—younger than him, wasn't she?" Ercole asked.

"You are confusing her age with that of the boy she spoiled, father," came Isabella's angry reminder.

Ercole let out a hoot of scandalized laughter.

"Must we discuss this here, my love? I understand your upset, but you have called for Cardinal Bembo, after all—he shall be a fine substitute for our combative Maestro, yes? Have you no idea of what his trouble is now?"

"None, whatsoever," she informed her husband.

"Well, whatever it is I may not be able to pardon him again, my love—there have simply been too many incidents—he is by far the finest paid musician here; he's been given every liberty—to leave without permission and in such a manner—it can't be good."

"Oh? Incidents? What incidents?" Ercole asked, greatly intrigued and hungry for gossip.

"Father, really—the Marquess is right—let us find more private environs for such discourse?" Alfonso gave his father a little frown as he ushered him forward.

"Yes, do come in out of this cold, refreshments and a warm fire await you all," Isabella said then as she came back to herself and her duties as hostess; though still very obviously distracted by the antics of her most favorite courtier she managed a hint of a smile at Lucrezia then looked at her brother and gave a very definite and disgusted shake of her head at him before she led them all away to the Castello di San Giorgio proper.

As she followed her hosts Lucrezia's mind raced before her; she thought of the murderer, Tromboncino, whom she had met on her first visit to Ferrara, and shivered—that he could be pardoned for murder—he must have been much favored, indeed. She had read a few cases concerning just such a thing in her studies in Ferrarese law; she knew that in matters regarding infidelity the laws were quite gray—a man could, and usually did, receive a pardon in such cases, but it still incensed her. Men had affairs as a matter of course but if an angry wife committed the same crime for the same reason she would be put to death. There was no winning for a woman. _But I killed my own husband...I am a murderess, myself..._ she thought back to Alfonso then, _but he asked me to do it, he was in such horrible pain!_ she argued with herself. She had to dispel that memory, very much upset that it had been triggered at all.

Finally they were in the Great House and seated in the Morone room; illustrating the beginning of the Gonzaga seigniory, the room was dominated by a large canvas painted by the Veronese artist of the same name.

The servants came immediately then, bearing wine, fresh-baked breads and cheeses, and sweet treats. As Lucrezia settled herself she thought next of Isabella's disapproving look at Alfonso just moments before— _was it about me or her Maestro? She does not like me, I'm sure of it...she did not answer my letters, after all._ It was at that moment, preoccupied with her own thoughts and divorced from the animated conversation going on around her, that she became aware of Francesco's concentrated gaze upon her.

Bembo's description of the pair did not bear out her physical expectations of them at all: she had been expecting a handsome man, bored and dismissive of his plain, over-bearing yet accomplished wife. While Isabella was not strikingly beautiful, she was a very handsome woman, whose mature figure was still appealing even after four young children, one of which was a newborn. Francesco was an odd-looking man, fine of form, but short, with a pleasing enough countenance that was thrown off by his rather pop-eyed glare and slightly snubbed nose. He seemed most attentive to his wife and Lucrezia had sensed no rancor between them. But then she thought of herself and Alfonso, who presented to strangers, and even some family members, as if all was well between them.

As to Francesco's looks, Lucrezia knew that being handsome was not a prerequisite for any man, especially a Marquess who was one of the finest Knights in all of Italy, to enjoy the delights of beautiful women, proper ladies or otherwise; Bembo's intelligence bearing otherwise seemed very unlikely to her.

And Bembo—had he been summoned before he came to her, knowing full-well that he would be at court? Just when she thought that she could place even a modicum of trust in him, circumstances, yet again, had proven otherwise.

Lucrezia suddenly realized that Francesco's gaze was no longer one of innocent concern, which she could have allowed; it had turned to one even more piercing and quite brazen, with a very inappropriate little smile on his face at her, which she could not. A blush of embarrassment rose to her cheeks even as she shot a surreptitious look at Isabella to see if she had noticed anything untoward; she need not have feared, for Isabella, her brother and father were still caught up in intimate conversation amongst themselves, as if Lucrezia and Francesco were not in the room at all; when she looked furtively back at him she was surprised to find her own eyes becoming affixed to his, first in question, then in reluctant intrigue. In the split second before Isabella called out her husband's name he had broken his gaze away from Lucrezia and concentrated it, instead, on his little plate of candied eringoes.

"Francesco will you?"

"Will I what, my love?" He looked up from his plate with an innocent smile at his wife.

"Go and see if Bembo has yet arrived while I retire our guests to their rooms to prepare for dinner? I simply must know if tomorrow's performance is still in jeopardy or not."

"Yes, my love, gladly," he said as he rose from his seat.

"I know the lay of the land, eh? Francesco, would you kindly oblige my company?" It was Ercole who sprang up from his seat then; it was the perfect opportunity to cull the particulars of Tromboncino's exploits from his son-in-law and he meant to hear them.

"Of course, dear Duke..." Francesco gave a little bow at the three of them, then a knowing smile at his father-in-law before he led him away.

Lucrezia steeled herself then for the moment that she would find herself alone with her husband for the first time in weeks; she was so undone by the afternoon's events that she could not even concentrate, let alone enjoy, all of the beauteous art lining the corridors—a sumptuous labyrinth—leading to her accommodations.

"We have five hundred rooms here, my Lady, all of them in use..." Isabella informed her proudly, "and I have fixed one of the best in the castle for you and my dear brother..." she said as she squired them to the Northeast Tower.

Lucrezia only smiled her thanks as she passed by mirrored galleries and masterpieces painted by Raphael; magnificent tapestries; breath-taking frescoed ceilings and walls—she saw none of it as her husband walked silently beside her.

"I know it is much to take in—you shall have a proper tour in the coming days, my Lady—now...here you are—of course I have given you the Bridal Chamber..." Isabella smiled as she opened the doors proudly.

Lucrezia's eyes could not ignore the opulence she found herself surrounded by then and was speechless as she looked about in shocked amazement.

"This room used to belong to King Ludwig the Second—that was his own canopy bed there." Isabella was used to the awe that the room always inspired and it was like re-living the joy she had felt when she'd seen it herself for the very first time. "I shall see you both at dinner—Alfonso...Lucrezia..." and with that she left them.

Lucrezia did not know what to make of anything by that point. Was Isabella mocking her? If so, Alfonso was surely in on the joke, yet still he was humorless. _Well, I suppose they will save their laughter for more private times. Does he have a favorite lady of the court awaiting his favor? Or a local whore, perhaps? Maybe he brought one along from Ferrara, encamped within our small retinue—he is a practical one. I hope that he did, for I have grown accustomed to my peace and would be happy to maintain it_ , she harrumphed silently to herself.

Alfonso was greatly enjoying his wife's obvious flustered state; to taunt her further he remained silent as he glared at her then went to the bed and bounded unceremoniously upon it; as he sat upon it, he made quite a show of plumping his pillows, then stacked them behind his back for support; finally settled in easy repose he looked back at Lucrezia as if he was waiting for her to join him.

She did not move.

He raised a hand at her and then gave two quick pats upon the mattress at her, as if he was signaling a trained dog to obey his silent command.

Lucrezia glowered at him then gave him her backside, seething with anger and insult, determined to remain as silent as her husband. _Two can play this game_ , she declared vehemently within herself.

She whipped back around in challenge to face him only to find Alfonso lying on his side, turned away from her and snoring very lightly. Insulted anew and her ego curiously deflated just a little bit, she stifled the curse that had almost escaped her lips and comported herself; she found her feet moving in his direction independently of her own will as she tip-toed over to him then, just to see what he was about. Even though she did not truly believe that he had fallen into slumber so quickly and she didn't know what she would do with him either way, she found herself upon him and staring in silent question at him. She wanted to reach out and touch his hand...lift it to see if it was rigid or limp and found that the thought alone had set her own hand to action.

Without opening an eye, or even the flutter of an eyelash, Alfonso reached up and snatched her wrist within the strong grasp of his hand, startling Lucrezia badly enough that she let out a little shriek.

"This bed is expansive, my Lady," he began and then gave a loud, long, lazy yawn. "Keep to your own side and we shall be fine—come at me again..." he opened his eyes to look at her, "and I shall take it as a sure invitation." In his tone was both a promise and a threat.

Lucrezia let out an indignant gasp as Alfonso released her hand in rough dismissal; as tired as she was all she wanted was to get away from him. Not knowing where she might find refuge she left their room, slamming the door loudly behind her, exhausted, outdone, and trying desperately to choke back her angry tears and overwhelming frustration.


	50. What, Say You?

Lucrezia made her way through the loggia and found herself in a modest little garden off of the Corte Vecchia; she took her seat wearily upon a cold marble bench and looked forlornly up at the dismal grey sky.

"Just a ray of sunlight, God...a single ray..." she whispered her wish softly up to Heaven.

"My Lady? Are you alright?"

It was Francesco Gonzaga standing under the arched entrance issuing a frown of concern at her.

"Oh...my Lord..." Badly startled, Lucrezia stood up from the bench, her first impulse being to excuse herself and take her leave—but to where? The thought of her sour husband sleeping peacefully in the bed, that she would have to share with him at some point, kept her rooted to her spot.

"No—do not get up if it is your wish to stay, my Lady...I only thought that you might be taking your rest now..."

_So did I_. "I find that, though I am a little tired, all of the beauty in this magnificent castle makes it impossible for me to settle myself, my Lord," she said out loud.

"Well, thank you, my Lady, however, your compliment both honors and distresses me—surely Alfonso—"

"Alfonso has been here many times and is able to sleep as one who is blessed to find respite in this home away from home; I look forward to the day where I may be blessed to feel the same, my Lord. At present I simply do not wish to disturb him with my incessant displays of vocal wonderment." Lucrezia gave him a small curtsey.

"You are too kind, dear Lucrezia—do take your seat, if that is your wish, and I should be happy to join you if you would allow?"

"Of course, my Lord..." Lucrezia took her seat again; Francesco joined her and sat a respectable distance away beside her.

"I'm sorry the day has not been more agreeable, but of course, this is our typical climate at this time of year," he apologized as he looked up at the sky.

"It has been a most beautiful day, my Lord."

"Well..." Francesco settled his gaze back upon her, "it must be for you to be sitting out here in this simple little garden under such a cloudy sky," he smiled at her. "Isabella has great plans for this space, but she has been too busy in her other duties to be able to spend any time on it yet."

"Well, I can surely understand—you've been graced with a newborn, I've been told."

"Yes—our lovely little Livia—Isabella is acquainting her to her grandfather at this very moment."

"Oh, how lovely..." Lucrezia gave a sincere smile as she thought first of Ercole and the joy he must have surely been experiencing, then of her own babies, whom she longed to hold in her arms again.

"She gave us a scare, that one—she was born two months prematurely, you see...but she is coming along quite nicely."

Lucrezia's smile turned to a look of alarm. "I shall keep her in my prayers, my Lord."

Francesco was very obviously touched by her concern and put a hand to his heart as he smiled warmly at her. "Why, thank you, my Lady, that would be most appreciated."

They shared a moment of awkward silence after they broke their gaze from upon one another and concentrated on the little stone water fountain bubbling its relaxing content at them.

"We are all so happy for—"

"Will Cardinal Bembo be able to—"

Both of them had spoken at the same time and chuckled lightly at each other in embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, my Lord—please, go ahead?"

"No, no—ladies, first."

Lucrezia comported herself. "Oh...I was going to ask if the Marquessa will be able to find her happy remedy in Cardinal Bembo? In light of the trouble with your esteemed Tromboncino..."

"Why, yes, thank you. She met with him before she took the Duke off to meet Livia; yes, Bembo will save the days ahead, indeed."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"And I was just going to say that we—Isabella and I—are so happy for Alfonso and our dear Duke; that they have both found their happiness and a future Duchess of Ferrara in you, my Lady."

Lucrezia was unable to contain the questioning glance she shot at Francesco.

"What is it, my Lady? You have a look of doubt upon that beautiful face..."

Lucrezia blushed at the compliment but ventured on to explain herself. "Of course I do, Marquess—we have shared a most pleasant moment together, here, and I feel that I can be frank with you—I hope that you will not consider me to be too forward..."

"Not at all, I am honored that you are at ease enough with me that you are able to do so." His smile at her then seemed almost as a challenge; Lucrezia dared to turn to face him properly upon the bench to meet it.

"We all know that this marriage was not favored in the beginning by the Duke—or your wife. I am happy that he has come to a happier disposition where I am concerned—I hope that someday I may be blessed to be able to say the same of your wife, my Lord."

Francesco gave a little reprimanding nod at Lucrezia then, yet still held his very warm smile at her as he turned to face her. "You must understand something, dear Lucrezia..."

"Yes, I know—the rumors about me...my family..."

"Not just that—do understand that this family has been greatly aggrieved these past years, starting with the death of Duchess Eleanora; none of them have ever truly recovered from that, such a loving and magnificent woman she was. And last year was a terror: Lady Anna and her newborn died; in the same year my wife and family lost their beloved Beatrice, as well; those were very dark times for them all. And then Alfonso saw you in Rome and a spark of light came back into his eyes, even as he still mourned his Anna. It was a shock to Ercole and Isabella, of course; combined with the tales of your brother, and the political intrigues involving Rome and His Holiness—well, you can imagine..."

"Yes, I can. Alliances are never easy," Lucrezia declared simply.

"Oh, my Lady—this is no mere alliance—Alfonso fell very definitely in love with you...at first sight. It may have initially baffled and consternated my wife and father-in-law at the time, but Alfonso's happiness is everything to them and they found out, quickly, that his happiness was bound very tightly to his desire for yours."

Once upon a time, she thought bitterly to herself. Was this man telling the truth? Alfonso was most definitely not happy with her—was he putting on a facade, as this man presented? Or was the sister, at least, privy to the truth where Francesco was not? It was impossible for Lucrezia to take any real comfort in the man's words; and the history of the family's shared heartbreak, while enlightening, only served to make her own heart feel heavier for them, as well as herself.. "Yes, my Lord, the love of one's family is everything, is it not?"

"It is indeed, my Lady. And you are a part of our family now; you have won Alfonso's heart and now our dear Ercole—I promise you that my Isabella's will not be far behind."

"You are too kind, Marquess. I do hope that your words will bear fruit."

"I've no doubt, my Lady. Thank you for allowing this intrusion...I shall leave you to your solitude, but if I may dare?"

"Yes?" Lucrezia leveled a look of caution upon him.

Francesco laughed lightly through a small shake of his head. "I promise that, while my next request may seem impolitic, it is not meant to be so..."

"Yes?"

"Enjoy our little garden, and any other other part of the castle that you wish, as long as you like and however you will—but I hope that you will not deprive your husband much longer of your company, for I imagine that every moment away from you is a torture—it would certainly be so if you were my wife."

_Ah...so there you are, finally, Marquess: a compliment and a touch of impropriety, all neatly rolled into one_ , she thought as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I have offended you—"

"No, Marquess, you are correct—it is time for me to take my leave. Thank you, for permitting me your indulgence; I shall take your words to heart and look forward to spending more time with you—and especially, your wife. Good afternoon." Lucrezia rose up from the bench without ceremony and left him then; her first footsteps upon the marbled loggia floor as she made away from Francesco and back to the Bridal Chamber were bold and sure, and belied the dread that filled every bone in her body at the thought of returning to her combative husband.

When she re-entered the Bridal Chamber she found Alfonso as she had left him, turned on his side away from her and sleeping soundly. She truly was tired and the huge bed looked so wonderfully inviting. She opted to remain fully clothed for her little nap—she would refresh herself properly—and privately—in the bathing room under the care of her ladies before the banquet dinner that was to be held in her and Alfonso's honor that evening; at that moment she just wanted to close her eyes and surrender to a dreamless sleep. Her gown rustled loudly as she got up on the bed and she felt Alfonso stir; she ignored him as she tried to settle herself comfortably, and turned on her side away from him; as she was about to close her eyes she heard and felt him awaken fully as he repositioned himself upon the bed; she knew that if she looked over her shoulder at the little gulf between them she would find his body, if not his eyes, facing her direction, for he had obviously turned over.

"Welcome back," Alfonso said then—there was no welcome in the tone of his voice at all.

Lucrezia gave a sigh as she opened her mouth to speak and was cut off before she could say a word.

"Be careful what you say, my Lady..." he warned her.

_Really? Then I shall say nothing..._ she said to herself, as her mouth and her eyes snapped angrily shut.

When Lucrezia awoke several hours later she was alone on the bed; Alfonso's side was neatly remade and atop one of his pillows was a sealed parchment with her name on it; she thought it might be from him and almost determined that she would do no more with it than to chuck into the hearth in the bathing room, but as she snatched it up and gave a scornful closer look, she saw that the seal upon it was that of her father, His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus. Just as she was about the rip the seal apart there was a knock on her door.

"My Lady, your bath is ready..." It was Lucia.

"Thank you, Lucia—I shall be along in a moment—" she called back to her as her eyes devoured her father's missive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm telling you that the time is now, brothers! If he can be fool enough to leave now—well, it is an invitation to take your lands back, is it not?" della Rovere implored the men before him.

It was a small but distinguished group assembled in Magione, the meeting called to order and coinciding on the eve of Cesare's departure from Piombino to Elba with his father, Pope Alexander.

"What does it say to you that King Louis has still not conferred more troops unto him? Hmm? Tell me!" he asked them all excitedly.

None in the group was as excited as he was; each man had something to lose, or had lost it all already and desired to reclaim it; the dour faces that looked upon him were Cesare's captains: Vitellozzo Vitelli, still very much on the fence where his desire to cross Cesare was concerned—even though he had lost his castle he still had lands in Bologna to defend; Gian Paolo Baglioni, who had lands in Perugia; Oliverotto da Fermo; and Pandolfo Petrucci, who was lord of Siena. Rounding out the hostile faces in the room were Gian Maria de Varano, who had just barely escaped the massacre upon his family in Camerino; Duke di Gravina Orsini; Giovanni Bentivogli; the Duke of Urbino; Antonio di Venafro; and Visconte Ugo di Cardona.

"Is not this current reversal of his policy enough for you? To inherit your lands? You know that he wants his banners alone draped over all of the Romagna—will you all just...lay down...and hand them over?" The Cardinal looked around the room at the forlorn men in disgust. "He is your common enemy, for the love of God! He and his wretched father, now and forever—you must strike!" della Rovere tried to incite them.

"Have you heard with your own ears, from the King's own lips, that troops are not forthcoming, Cardinal?" Visconte di Cardona asked him with a sneer.

"Well, no...not exactly—but look how much time has passed—it cannot be taken as anything other than a good sign."

"A 'good sign' is not confirmation, Cardinal..." Gian de Varano leveled at him.

"You hesitate because of the recent devastation inflicted upon your family, which is understandable, Gian—I for one am ready to fight to the death—I _will_ take Fano—that is my promise to you all, whether I claim it for a day or the rest of my days—we can beat this Spanish scourge—I'm with the Cardinal," he proclaimed to them all.

"Yes, my Roman brothers! Come now—what better gift to present to the Borgia Bastard upon his return than the decimation of his scant broken lances? You best him now and King Louis will not be inclined to invest anything in him further—why, his sister's wedding—this delusional trip to Elba—that is not the act of a leader...a Lord—a Prince? A would-be-King? No, it is the action of a man far removed from reality, too full of himself because his heinous father happens to sit—for now—debasing the Papal Throne. We can do this!"

"We?" Gian Paolo Baglioni grimaced at him. "I don't recall ever seeing your arse astride a horse and charging into battle, Cardinal, ready to lay your very life on the line."

"Go easy, Baglioni—the Cardinal endeavors help bring about that which we all desire—to see Rome—the Vatican—in control again of good Romans," the Duke of Urbino interceded.

"So says you, _nipote..._ " Baglioni sneered at the Duke through tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, my Lords, really..." Pandolfo Petrucci sighed tiredly at them all, "can we save our quarreling for when the Borgia menace is no more? It will be much more enjoyable then, yes?" His entreaty at them was the one the broke the ice, cooled their flaring tempers and caused all of the men to let out involuntary—and cathartic—light laughter.

"Vitellozzo? Have you nothing to say?" della Rovere asked him as their laughter subsided; Vitelli shot him an unappreciative look at being put so magnificently on the spot; della Rovere knew well that Vitelli actually feared Cesare and had not set a sure course in the campaign to go against him.

"Look, Cardinal, I want to be done with the Borgia's as much as we all do, but I am not convinced that this trip to Elba is as foolish a one as we all think—I believe he goes with the confidence that King Louis will honor that which was promised—I wouldn't like to see yet another massacre."

"Then what do you propose?" della Rovere yelled his angry exasperation at him.

"That we wait and find out for sure!" Vitelli yelled back. "We must know what we are truly up against!"

The other men in the room grumbled their arguments at each other even as the two men exploded before them.

"No—we take the chance..." Visconte di Cardona said quietly at them through the din. "What have you heard about the Germans, Cardinal? What is their number?"

"Only eight hundred or so, and even all of them are not committed anymore—to any fight. We can do this. What say you Sons of Rome? Does this really require a vote? Are we not ready to take back that which is rightfully ours? What say you?" della Rovere pleaded at them then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well?"

"They will converge on Fossombrone tomorrow evening," the spy from the meeting reported to him.

Micheletto, back at camp in Imola, grunted his pleasure at the news. "Good. Was it unanimous?'

"I do not believe Vitellozzo Vitelli can be counted upon."

"Not surprising—not that it maters. Very good—let us go and prepare, hmm?"

"Yes, Captain."


	51. All That There Is To Know

"Is everything alright, my Lady?" Alfonso asked Lucrezia quietly as he sat beside her at the banquet table, his eyes concentrated on his plate.

Lucrezia's eyes had been trained upon the sumptuous table and its lavish decorations, the likes of which she had never seen before. They were on the seventh and final service, of which the adorning center pieces had been fantastic sugar models depicting the Twelve Labors of Hercules, changed out at each service; several courses had been combined, but the final showpiece, as fabulously colored and gilded as the ones before, was the grandest of them all in height and detail and depicted Hercules capturing the Cerberus for the return to King Eurystheus. Alfonso had taken advantage of her break in conversation with a friend and nobleman seated on her other side to interject himself. Lucrezia was careful to keep a pleasant look on her face even though his nonchalant manner and continued playacting irritated her to no end.

"I was just admiring the lovely table, my Lord" she said as she picked up her fork and forced herself to eat a morsel from her plate.

"Yes—my sister squired our family cook away when she married the Marquess—he is a master. You haven't eaten much—does it not suit you?" He put his own fork down and looked pointedly at her.

Lucrezia dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin and then returned his challenging glance at her. "Are you speaking of the meal, my Lord?"

Alfonso smirked at her. "What else could I possibly be speaking of, my Lady?"

"I'm sure that I do not know."

"Maybe it was the correspondence from His Holiness that has taken your appetite—I hope that it was not bad news."

"As if you really care."

Ercole looked over at them from across the table then, happy to see them conversing together; aware of his eyes upon them they each returned their smiles, which sent him happily back to his conversation with his daughter and son-in-law.

"Two weeks of this..." Lucrezia sighed before she took on the task of spearing another small bite; Alfonso kept his gaze concentrated on his wife.

"You do not find your favor here with my family, is that it?"

Lucrezia finished chewing and then cleared her throat with a sip of wine. "I find maintaining this facade tiresome, that's all; your sister clearly does not like me, but I do not like deceiving your father."

"And why not? Deceit is your specialty, after all."

It took every ounce of her will to maintain her composure then. "You are trying to incite me, sir, and I will not be manipulated by you in such a manner."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

"I beg to differ, wife..." he said as the soothing music that had accompanied the feast became more lively and signaled the commencement of the ball, "for the dance is beginning..." he stood up and held out his hand to her, "and it is my intent to manipulate you even more vigorously before this evening is done. You will not deny me."

His outward manner and smile was chivalrous and romantic enough that it brought a round of light applause from the court; his words, which they did not hear, were terse and threatening. Lucrezia rose gracefully from her seat, curtsied at him and then was led away to the ballroom floor.

At one point, quite late in the night, Lucrezia was surprised to find herself handed off to Cardinal Bembo.

"Oh...Cardinal...good evening."

"My Lady." He was careful to keep respectful eyes upon her.

"I expected to see you performing tonight."

"That can still be arranged, my Lady..." he managed to say while keeping a straight face.

"What?"

Bembo shot her a quick, stealthy glance and dared to give her a suggestive wink before he resumed his seeming mask of indifference.

"Oh! You continue to be most impertinent!" Lucrezia found that she was not as insulted as she made herself out to be and a little chuckle escaped her in spite of herself.

"I have completed my first goal of the evening, my Lady, your laughter is my happy reward," he said then.

"Oh? There are others?" she asked him as she comported herself.

"Oh, yes," he assured her.

"I think not."

"Won't you even entertain me?"

"Certainly not." Truth be told, Lucrezia found that she was actually enjoying herself for the first time since she'd been in Mantua. "When you mind your manners, Cardinal, I find that you are really quite fun to be around," she admitted to him.

She was caught up by another man and then brought back around to Bembo again, on the way in a few movements back to her husband.

"I missed you, my Lady."

"Stop this—I am only the conquest you have not mastered, Pietro..."

"Is there hope for me?"

"No," she giggled at him. "I shall be back in the hands of my dour husband soon and you are making me feel like a naughty little girl—do stop it."

"You are a naughty little girl—did I not tell you to watch yourself with the Marquess?"

The giddiness she had allowed herself brief respite in died. "Are you spying on me, then?"

"Look how he watches you, Lucrezia," he said hurriedly for she would be gone from him soon.

"I am the Borgia Bitch; the Poisoner; the Spanish Slattern; the Daughter of the Devil Incarnate who dares to sit upon the Papal Throne—they are _all_ watching, me Pietro," she said bitterly. "I would caution you to give up that particular campaign where I am concerned," she told him then, a very quiet fire flashing in her beautiful blue eyes at him before the next movement carried her away.

"What was that all about, wife?" Alfonso leveled at her upon her return to him.

A few more steps and that dance came to an end; Lucrezia gave a curtsey at him and upon rising stared her defiance at him.

"I will not tolerate this insolence, Lucrezia..." he said through tight lips and a strained smile.

As the music began to swell and the ballroom floor came back to life Lucrezia's features softened; with a sweet smile at him she took her silent leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia returned to their room and retrieved the short letter from her father; she didn't know how long she had to enjoy her solitude but in those precious moments alone she pushed everything out of her mind and concentrated on her father's bold script upon the single page: he and Cesare were leaving for Elba and upon his return he wanted her to come to Rome to discuss the situation regarding her sons as soon as she was able to do so.

So, he had been able to settle the situation quickly; all that she could think about then were her two darling babes, soon to be reunited with her, at last. She kissed the page, refolded it to its smallest dimension and returned it to her jewelry box on the table next to her side of the bed; she dressed herself for bed and slipped under the sumptuous covers for the first time, not caring about when Alfonso would return, his subsequent mood or ensuing questions; she had something wonderful to look forward to that would make the two weeks in Mantua more than tolerable and her return to Ferrara more promising than ever.

As she was about to blow out her bedside candle Alfonso erupted into the room violently.

"How dare you! To embarrass me like that and leave without so much as a goodnight to your hosts!" he roared at her.

Lucrezia sat up in the bed, gave him a look and then began laughing.

"WHAT is it that you find so damnably amusing, Lucrezia?"

"You, Alfonso. No one down there misses me: not you; your father—certainly not your sister."

"Your Cardinal misses you..." he spat at her.

"Is it a crime for me to have a friend?"

"A friend, you say? I see the resemblance to your brother—found your own substitute, then, is that it? How long has _that_ been going on?" he railed at her.

"I am so tired of you and your accusations; your distrust; your venom, Alfonso! All of your glorious words—remember those? The ones you spoke to me in Rome at our betrothal? Lies. All lies!"

"You lied to me first—you and your brother!"

"I did not! I have not! For the last time we did nothing that night! I have never had the Cardinal nor do I desire him!"

"He certainly desires you, anyone can see that...how long have you planned all of this?"

"I've planned nothing, Alfonso! I knew nothing of his former appointment with your father in Ferrara...I knew nothing about his presence here before the morning that we arrived on the heels of his colleague's shady departure! But you..." she got out of the bed to accost him, "can think what ever you damn well like! I don't care anymore! I shall have my children with me soon—we will return to Ferrara and you will honor the bargain for my children to come to me..."

"What is this now?"

"The letter from His Holiness—I shall be going to Rome in the very near future to retrieve my children to bring to court."

"Over my dead body."

"What do you mean? You promised that they could come..." Lucrezia's fists had become balled at her sides as she approached him.

"Not that—you will not go to Rome."

"And why not?"

Alfonso sniffed his disgust at her as he began to circle her where she stood. "Any excuse, hmm? Any excuse to go running back to Rome and rendezvous with Cesare—admit it!"

"You are mad, Alfonso, and I do not even understand why—you don't love me, not really—I'm only a distraction to you..."

Alfonso rushed her then, forced her back towards the bed and pinned her down roughly. "Do not tell me what I feel, Lucrezia Borgia d'Este..." he threatened her.

"I have heard the stories from your own father, Alfonso, of you and your Anna; your child—"

"I do not wish to talk about that..."

"And that is your problem—you don't think you have to talk about anything, Alfonso—yet you demand everything! But this is only an alliance, after all—love does not have to be a part of the bargain; you have your women, to give you what you need—I did not lie to you about Cesare; I have not lain with the Cardinal—I don't want any man! All I want are my children, with me, in Ferrara; you want an heir I will provide you one, but I need no men—I would be happy to live as a nun for the rest of my days, and cause not one shred of scandal upon you. Happily."

"You women..." he snarled at her, "Anna wanted the same thing—a child—and that child cost us both her life!"

"So, that is your trouble? You truly loved her, I understand that, but why me, Alfonso?"

"I loved you and you betrayed me!"

"You want to hate me...and I am so easy to hate, am I not? A Borgia. You want to make me pay for Anna! Get off of me, Alfonso..." she tried to push him off of her.

"No—save your analysis for subjects you have some understanding of—now...you said that you would provide me with an heir—no better time than the present, my Lady..." he ripped her gown off of her.

"You are a brute, like all of the rest! Oh! Stop...it..." she tried to fight him off.

Alfonso subdued her easily. "Every man here desires you—my own father desires you! And Francesco does not fool me, either. Ah, but I have you now, don't I, my love; I promise that you shall not ever step foot back in Rome—His Holiness can deliver your children to Ferrara himself; I don't care what our alliance means, to either of our respective families: if Cesare Borgia ever comes anywhere within sight of you again I will kill him! And, so to, his musical surrogate—you shall never see your Cardinal Bembo again," he hissed at her as he thrust her legs viciously apart.

"No! Wait! Alfonso, wait! Not like this..." she pleaded with him.

"Oh, yes, my Lady—always like this—your lips protest but this body underneath me does not lie..." he moaned his lust at her.

"Al...fon...so...no!" she grunted her efforts against him to no avail.

Just then there was a commotion at the door of their suite; to Alfonso's surprise Pietro Bembo burst in and pounced upon him.

"What an insensitive husband you are—your father..." Bembo grabbed the surprised man up and off of Lucrezia, "...would be most ashamed..." he held the man by his collar and thrust a powerful fist squarely to his face which sent him sprawling across the floor on his backside.

"You! How dare you! You are finished at court, Bembo!" Alfonso roared as he scrambled to get up.

"I think not, my Lord, I have your father's favor, and so to, does your honorable wife."

"Honorable..." Alfonso sneered at him. "You do not have all of the facts, Bembo—when my father hears what I have to tell him about her 'honor'—you will both be banished from our lands!" Alfonso was as angry as a feral animal, spittle spraying from his mouth as he growled his disgust at them both.

Lucrezia, in tears and ensconced then in the linens from the bed, looked her panic at Alfonso: would he make good on his threat and actually give her up to the old Duke? Her shame would be insurmountable; she had never confided her truest crime to Bembo—when he found out about her he would abandon her, as well.

"He knows all that there is to know, my Lord, or needs to—except this..." Bembo walked over to him and threw a piece of paper on the floor at him.

"Damn you..." Alfonso raged at Bembo as he propelled himself forward and came in for attack; the two men fought ferociously but Bembo bested him again, this time with his sword drawn at Alfonso, backed into a corner of the room. "Read the names, my Lord..." Bembo ordered him.

Alfonso only glared venomously at him.

"READ!" Bembo led him by the tip of his sword at his neck to the note on the floor and only removed it after Alfonso had done as ordered.

"How do you know about this?"

"The better question, my Lord, is how would you like for your father to know about this? You lay another foul hand upon your wife and he will. Or we can agree to what I said before—he knows all that there is to know, hmm?"

"You..."

"I suggest that you operate as you do in Ferrara, my Lord—make other sleeping arrangements while you are here and leave your wife to her peace."

"You dare to—"

"I do. You may try me if you wish," Bembo smiled down at him serenely.

Lucrezia, standing by in confusion and shock, watched her husband finally collect himself and slink away from them without another word.

"Bembo! Bembo? What on God's earth is going on here?"

"There is nothing for you to worry about, Lucrezia—are you alright?"

"I am now."

"Very good," he smiled at her then.

"My marriage was always in trouble, Pietro, but I fear that this alliance is over—I don't understand what just happened here..."

"I know that you don't—one day I will explain it to you, but collect yourself, Lucrezia, as much is as possible and try to get your rest, yes? Your alliance is secure and you will not be having any more trouble from him, I promise."

"I wish that I could truly believe that..." she said worriedly.

"Trust in me, Lucrezia—more than that, trust in yourself."

"Pietro..." she began awkwardly, "I...I'm sorry about before...all of the times before...when I—"

"I am your friend, Lucrezia...as such I realize that I must leave this room, now." Bembo gave her a sweet, chaste kiss to her cheek and a wink of his eye then quietly did just that.


	52. Leverage

Over the following two days Isabella managed Lucrezia's every waking moment in her own happy role as tour guide of the palazzo by day, then as proud patroness of Mantua's finest artists and musicians in the evenings. Cardinal Bembo had been included in each evening's performance but Lucrezia had not even remotely dared to try and catch her Cardinal's careful eye; her relationship with her husband was as strained as ever, more so since the night Bembo had saved her from Alfonso's wrath. Bembo's continued presence at court was proof that his threat against Alfonso was a tangible one; serious enough that Alfonso had done as ordered and kept away from their bed.

During those two days Lucrezia had not seen her husband at all; and the seating charts for the evening festivities had been fashionably arranged to allow the newlyweds to mingle with other notables. The lack of her husband's presence was, indeed, the same as it had been in Ferrara. While Lucrezia wondered what in the world was responsible for making it so, she feared that the thing between the Cardinal and her husband would only ever remain a mystery to her.

It was a rare moment then, by the end of that first week, that Lucrezia found herself alone and left to her own devices. As it happened, Alfonso, Francesco and Ercole had been called away on urgent political matters and Isabella's attentions had been been drawn back to her infant daughter, who had taken ill yet again. They were just finishing up a light lunch when Livia's nursemaid came rushing into the dining hall.

"My Lady...Livia is with fever..."

"Summon the medic," Isabella ordered as she threw her napkin into her plate and sprang up from the table.

"He has already been sent for, my Lady..."

"Sister-in-Law, please excuse me..."

"Of course...I shall keep you all in my prayers, Marquessa, but please tell me if there is anything that I can do?"

Isabella was genuinely warmed by the sincere offer of help and gave Lucrezia her first and very warm smile in return. "Thank you," she took Lucrezia's hand into one of her own. "your prayers at this time mean everything to me."

Lucrezia nodded her head and then dared to give Isabella a kiss to her cheek. "I would not detain you longer, my Lady."

" _Isabella_ ," she managed to smile back under a worried frown.

The two women nodded again at each other before Isabella rushed away.

Lucrezia had been wanting some time to herself, but not under such a circumstance. Feeling alone and uneasy she decided to go to the Basilica di Sant'Andrea to offer her prayers for little Livia and for her family who loved her. She had been a little over an hour at prayer, not only for the Gonzaga's and d'Este's, but her own family, as well, when she was joined silently by another in her pew.

"Cardinal?" Lucrezia whispered at him.

"My Lady."

"I hope you have come to tell me good news of Livia Gonzaga, otherwise I shall view your appearance here in a most unfavorable light," she said quietly from the side of her mouth as she kept her eyes on the altar before her.

"You shall do no such thing—you've been wanting to speak with me as eagerly as I have been wanting to speak with you."

Lucrezia could hear the smile in his voice and suppressed her own. "Have you news of Livia?"

"The child is still with fever...lowered somewhat, but still perplexingly high."

"Then I shall stay at prayer a while longer."

"Have you had confession lately, my child?"

Lucrezia took her eyes off away from the altar and settled them suspiciously upon her smiling friend, who managed to keep his own eyes fixed away from her.

"I have not, Your Eminence."

"Well, child, there is a smaller—more private—chapel that would serve us both quite well in that endeavor...follow me."

"Are you mad? It's bad enough that you've followed me here, and now to propose such a thing! In church!" She was mindful of keeping her voice down as there were several other people in the chapel.

"Hmm? Propose what such thing, my Lady? Where has your mind gone off to? You act as if I am begging for your kisses behind a hedge..." His voice was full of mirth and his raised eyebrow at her was a challenge.

Lucrezia's turned away from him, scandalized, as a blush of crimson rose upon her cheeks.

"Of course in church—what better place to hear confession, my child."

"Do not 'my child' me—" she snapped at him.

"Your question of my true intent flatters me, my Lady, but please know that I am offering only the thing you truly desire most at this time."

"Oh? And what is that, Cardinal?" she harrumphed at him. "Since you seem to think you know me so well..."

"Information. Follow me..."

Lucrezia followed Bembo to a smaller, empty chapel on the second level of the church where they settled themselves in a modest confessional.

"How did you know, Pietro? How did you know to come to me that night?" she asked him when he opened the lattice between them.

"Not so very difficult, my Lady; the man was positively drunk with anger at your insolent departure—I did not have to perform an act of magery to know what he was about. Many other guests inquired after you, you see, and each terse apology for your absence—combined with each sip of his sister's fine Chianti—served only to fuel his ire until he could take no more; when he finally put down his goblet and stole away my eyes were on him, but even a blind man would have known where he was off to."

"So tell me then—how is it that you are still here? What was it that passed between the two of you that night?"

"Ah...my Lady...so much history..." he smiled devilishly at her through the lattice.

"I have always been an avid student of history, Cardinal," she smiled back at him.

"Yes...well, you see, and of course you can surely guess, that the secret begins with a woman..." he teased her.

"A woman? What woman? Please do not tell me that you trysted with Alfonso's saintly Anna..."

"Oh no—I am not a culprit in this sordid tale, at all..."

"Thank God in His Heaven, or I would have to beg off now."

"Others, certainly...but not this one." His light laughter and look of pure mischief elicited a frown on Lucrezia's face.

"Cardinal, stop teasing and tell me, now..."

"The characters in this horrible act involve your husband...his unfortunate brother, Giulio...and a cousin of yours, dear Lucrezia."

"A cousin? Of mine?"

"You Borgia's have all been blessed with such beauty—your cousin, Angela Borgia, is no different and was once very much favored at court in the house of d'Este."

"What? When was this? Was Alfonso married, then?"

"He was, but his history with Angela goes back to before his marriage; when he married Anna she was sheltered and unspoiled; their love for one another was more ideal, than anything else, and she was very sweet and naïve...and Alfonso was, even then, a man intent on having his pleasure."

"Aren't you all?" she sniffed at him.

Bembo only smiled at her as he continued. "Young Angela was...high-spirited...she favored all three of the brothers, Ippolito, Giulio, and Alfonso, and had each of them; it seemed, at first, that Ippolito had won the lady's truest affection but she settled herself very suddenly upon Giulio—both brothers went into a rage—Giulio is a bastard, after all, but Ercole's favorite son, nevertheless. He and the other bastard, Ferrante, have always rankled Ippolito and Alfonso, but this business with Angela continues to be a bone of contention between them, especially where Ippolito is concerned; ever the libertine, he still seeks to have the Angela for his own, but more out of spite than any semblance of real love for her.

"Alfonso, on the other hand, easily gave Angela up; he was happy with Anna and his truest concern was and still is, the endeavor to keep Giulio and Ferrante both from ever laying claim to the duchy of Ferrara. It is easy enough with Ferrante—he is the most political of the two bastards and the most diabolical; the charges against him are well-founded. Giulio, however, is another story; while he has no real political ambitions, he does have his father's full favor; he is not a simple man but he has simple desires: to live at court in the manner in which he is accustomed; to marry Angela and start a family of his own. Ferrante uses him to gain influence with the Duke...and Alfonso makes the case always to the Duke that Ferrante's murderous intents are bound tightly with Giulio's..."

"A boon to one brother, bane to the other and a pawn to be played equally by both..."

"Very much so, my Lady. Alfonso would gladly see Ferrante cold upon a slab, but to make such a bold move against Giulio would be to break the old man's heart; so, instead of murder Alfonso always finds a way to have the man banished from Ferrara for one trumped-up reason or another; Ferrante is exiled in Modena as we speak, on very solid grounds."

"So, Giulio—he is in Modena, as well?"

"No...Alfonso makes sure to keep them apart from one another and he is exiled, this time, in Brescello. Giulio's only crime is that he finds himself caught-up, ever in the middle of the war between his brothers, and as such is denied those simple things he wants most."

"A bastard's bad luck of the draw," Lucrezia said bitterly under her breath.

"What was that, my Lady?"

"Nothing, Cardinal. So this latest exile—Alfonso—"

"Happily engineered it magnificently," Bembo cut her off.

"And if Ercole knew about it—"

"The damage would be irreparable—the the very thing Alfonso and Ippolito have been working so hard to prevent would come to pass—Alfonso would suffer the sure wrath of his father and lose his chance to claim Ferrara for himself."

"And so this is what has kept my husband from troubling me further and you here at court."

"Yes, my Lady...I hazard that if his father ever found out the truth—he might very well put a sword through his son's treacherous heart himself."

"Well..." Lucrezia's thoughts went back to the struggles of her own brothers, Juan and Cesare, as she shook her head sadly, "he told me that he came from a family as murderous as my own—it seems that he was speaking the truth." She gave a heavy sigh. "Well, Cardinal, what am I to do with all of this? I am very fond of the Duke—"

"And he is quite fond of you, my Lady..."

"He has spoken to me very frankly of his heartbreak over Giulio..."

"It is most unfortunate, but how wonderful that he has found such a loving daughter-in-law in you, my Lady."

"This knowledge only serves to pain me even more for him..."

"I do understand, my Lady, but think of it also as... _leverage_...for yourself, where your husband is concerned..."

"Yes, Cardinal, there is nothing like a little blackmail to help strengthen the holy bonds of matrimony," she said through a derisive little snort.

"Not blackmail—a safeguard—assurance—that you may ever have at your disposal to arm yourself with."

"I would never—" she began indignantly.

"Of course you would not desire to do so, but if you were forced to—well, Alfonso is not, thus far, deserving of that particular assurance of you, hmm?"

"Careful, Cardinal...you are beginning to sound very much like a Borgia."

"Or d'Este," he smiled at her.

"He will know that you've divulged this to me."

"Should it ever come to a point that you must make it known, my Lady, yes, he will; but if and when you do, remember to do so in a private manner but in as public a place as possible, with many people about, do you understand? So that you may take your leave in safety—remember that," he instructed her seriously.

"I will, Cardinal, but the day that I level that knowledge at him I may have to take my leave for good."

"No—it will give him pause, my Lady, as effectively as you have witnessed thus far."

Lucrezia gave him a skeptical look as she rose to leave.

"Lucrezia?"

"Yes, Pietro?"

"There is nothing else you wish to talk about?"

"Such as what?"

"Everything went so well on your first trip to Ferrara—what happened since then that is responsible for all of this rancor between you and Alfonso? Would you tell me?"

For the briefest of moments Lucrezia allowed herself the idea of sitting down and unleashing all of her torments to him; her fears and heartbreak; all of the truths that burdened her heart . She knew that he would honor his vows, hear her confession as a priest, but as a friend he would certainly judge her, even if he claimed otherwise; as a man who was enamored of her—such truths would certainly diminish her in his eyes. She decided easily and quickly that her unburdening was best left to the silence of her thoughts and prayers to God.

"How lucky that His Holiness chose you for me all of those long months ago," she said then.

"How lucky for us both—will you not avail yourself to me?"

"Thank you, Pietro, but all of your help thus far has been more than enough and very much appreciated. I should get back now."

"Yes, of course."

"I hope that our dear Livia has had some relief."

"As do I...I shall stay longer here and pray on it."

Lucrezia gave him a nod and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia's last days in Mantua, aside from the continued discord between herself and her husband, were more pleasant than when she had first arrived; by the end of Lucrezia's second and final week Livia Gonzaga had recovered from her illness, to the great relief of all; Isabella's regard for Lucrezia had blossomed into one that was much kinder, even more so as she observed how wonderful Lucrezia was with her own children.

"Eleonora and Federico are going to miss your wonderful bedtime stories, Lucrezia," she remarked to her during a stroll about the galleries one day.

"They are all such darlings, Marquessa, you are truly blessed. And I am so glad that Livia is better; may God bless her with continued good health, and all of you."

"Thank you so much, Lucrezia, for your sincere and appreciated well-wishes. You will come back to Mantua, sister-in-law, and next time you must have a proper visit of at least a month."

"Thank you Isabella, I will look forward to it."

The old Duke, too, was happy to note the change in his daughter's feelings towards Lucrezia. "What did I tell you, my dear Lucrezia, eh?" he smiled happily, partnered with her during a basse dance one evening after dinner, "I knew that you and my Isabella would find friendship in one another."

"Happily so, my Lord..."

Even Francesco had been on his best behavior, so much so that his previous, and slightly questionable, attentions seemed more than a figment of her imagination; Lucrezia had the good will of all—except, of course, her husband.

It was also during that time that she received another missive from her father, delivered one evening by an anxious servant, Alfonso close on her heels as they entered the bedroom suite.

"Yes?" she asked of the nervous girl as she turned away from her vanity mirror, where she was adding some finishing touches to her hair in preparation for the evening banquet.

"My Lady, a message from His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus..." the girl handed her the sealed parchment.

"Thank you," she said with a smile as she waited for the girl to go; the moment became more awkward as the girl stayed rooted to her spot, under Lucrezia's questioning glare and Alfonso's angry one. "You may go..." Lucrezia told her gently.

"Begging your pardon, my Lady, but the cavalier who delivered it must have your response immediately to carry back to His Holiness, he said."

"Oh...well then, you will excuse me—" Lucrezia smiled at her, "wait in the hall, please, and I shall bring it to you, yes?"

"Yes, my Lady, very good, my Lady," the girl gave a curtsey and hurried away.

"That means you as well, husband," she said to Alfonso through her fading smile.

"I think not," he stated calmly.

Lucrezia gave an exasperated sigh and turned away from him as she tore open the seal; when she reached the vanity table she turned back in Alfonso's direction for the sake of privacy and took her time reading the letter silently, then read it again, a look of confusion on her face.

"Well?" he asked her, his voice full of impatience and ill humor.

"His Holiness has returned from a successful trip to Elba; he needs to speak to me but is unable to away from Rome and is sending Cesare in his stead...he is to meet us upon our return to Ferrara..." Her voice was just above a whisper and full of question.

"He will not set one disgusting foot upon my land..." Alfonso snarled at her as he made to come at her and snatch the letter away to read it for himself; his move at her brought her back to herself.

"Stay away from me, sir—if that is the case then I must surely send back the message that I will go to Rome and meet His Holiness there—there is no other choice in this matter," she told him firmly as she backed away from him.

"Give me that letter—"

"Stay away from me, Alfonso..."

"Do not trifle with me...give it to me..." he ordered as he advanced menacingly upon her again.

"Here—" she thrust it at him and then raced to the door. "Young lady?"

"Yes, my Lady?" asked the startled girl after Lucrezia had burst through the door at her.

"Come in, please, while I prepare my response and I shall go with you to deliver it to our waiting cavalier," she looked back over her shoulder at Alfonso, who was practically breathing fire as he stood with her father's letter held hostage within the crush of one fisted hand; she led the girl in then gathered her own parchment and seal and wrote her response quickly and sealed it. "Come now, let us make haste for the banquet is about to begin," she smiled at the girl as she led the way out of the suite; she looked a demure smile over her shoulder at Alfonso. "I shall see you in the dining hall, my Lord..." and then she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The time came finally for Alfonso and Lucrezia to depart for Ferrara; to his son's surprise Ercole had decided at the last minute to stay a few weeks longer. Lucrezia had a surprise of her own.

It was the night before they were to depart; Lucrezia had helped Isabella to put the children to bed—a task that Isabella never left to the nursemaids—and they had rejoined the men for late refreshments and the last opportunity to enjoy each others company. Though he had not said so directly, Lucrezia was sure that her father had good news about her sons and was certain that they were waiting for her in Rome, ready to come to court at Ferrara; emboldened by her happy suspicion she chose the moment to make a small announcement.

"Well, I wish you both a pleasant ride back...I love traveling this time of year myself—I will take the cold over the heat of summer any time," Isabella said.

"It was a lovely ride here, my Lady, made even more pleasant by your father's rich and informative escort. Though my ride back may be a lonely one I look forward to spotting the many points of interest he brought to my attention, and with a much keener eye this time."

"What?" everyone in the room said in unison.

Lucrezia addressed her husband. "You read the missive from His Holiness—did I not tell you that I have arranged my escort and that I am going straightaway to Rome, husband?" she asked him with a sweet smile.

Alfonso's face became a stony mask. "No, _wife_ , you did not."

"That is most strange...I...distinctly remember telling you that I would be going to Rome, as His Holiness is unable to come to us in Ferrara at present..."

Alfonso only glared at her, tight-lipped.

"What is this now?" came Ercole's worried voice. "Is everything alright in Rome, dear Lucrezia?"

"I hope so; I have been summoned but for what reason His Holiness did not yet impart to me."

"I hope it is not anything dire, Lucrezia," Isabella said sincerely.

"I know that it is a delicate subject and your discretion has been greatly appreciated, but I will say that I am sure it has to do with my children..."

"Yes, Alfonso told me that it was his wish to have them at court—I do hope that your trip to Rome regards that happy resolution, Lucrezia." Isabella, seated next to Lucrezia, took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, to which Lucrezia dared to give the woman's cheek a kiss.

"Thank you, Marquessa, I can only hope."

"Godspeed to you, my Lady, I too hope that all will go well for you," Francesco said then.

Lucrezia thanked him with a nod of her head then looked across the room at her angry husband with a triumphant little smile on her face, secure in the knowledge that, instead of tolerating an insufferable ride alone back to Ferrara with Alfonso, Rome awaited her—and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop her.

"The hour is growing late—we should retire, Lucrezia..." Alfonso rose from his seat.

"I am enjoying myself much too much to leave everyone just yet, Alfonso—please, if you are tired go on ahead and I shall join you shortly."

"A kiss goodnight, then, my love?"

Lucrezia could tell from his clipped words that Alfonso was seething with anger; she rose and went to him; Alfonso took her into a chaste embrace and leaned into her ear.

"This is not about your children—it is about Cesare..." he hissed at her.

"Think what you like, I care not, anymore."

"You will not do this thing, Lucrezia..."

"Not only will I do this thing, Alfonso, but if I am anywhere other than in my own carriage and on the way to Rome in the morning then Cardinal Bembo will have a meeting with your father bearing some very choice information about his beloved Giulio," she whispered back at him.

To the others in the room the pair looked intimate enough that the decision might be made where they would both render their adieu, after all, but Lucrezia broke away from her husband with a sweet kiss to a small patch of his unbearded cheek and then rejoined her hosts as Alfonso gave a stiff goodnight at them all and took his leave.


	53. Secrets And Lies

"Oh, my love! Come to me!"

"Mother..."

There were tears in both women's eyes as Lucrezia ran to her mother's open arms. "Oh, mother, it is so good to be home..."

"I have missed you so, darling daughter..." Vannozza murmured into her daughter's hair as she held her tightly, "it is good to have you home."

"I'm so glad father consented to having you host me here instead of Castel Sant'Angelo..."

"He didn't really have a choice, my love..." Vannozza smiled at her daughter as she released her reluctantly from her embrace. "I have been so lonely these past months, what with you away to your happy life, and your father and Cesare gone this past month to Elba; Gioffre has written to me once since your wedding day—everyone is involved in their own lives, I understand, but it is the day I have always dreaded as you've all grown older," Vannozza managed through a little sniffle. "Anyway, when your father returned and told me that you were to come home for this brief visit I insisted that we all deserved our privacy and that we must be allowed to enjoy each other here at home," she said of her palazzo, "instead of under the glowering and scrutinizing looks of the consistory—I simply was not going to have it."

"Thank you, mother, I do appreciate it." Lucrezia's attention was drawn to the continued flow of her mother's tears. "Mother? What is it? Mother?"

"Oh, do forgive me—I'm just an old woman now, lonely and ever missing the days of the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps upon the tiles—where did the time go, my love?"

"You? Old? Never...do come sit with me upstairs, yes? Has not Theo been here to help comfort you?" Lucrezia asked as they ascended the stairs to the dining room.

"Oh, my love, Theo is a good man and an even better friend...but you know who comforts my heart most and I have seen very little of him since your marriage..."

Lucrezia seated her mother at the table and then proceeded to pour them both goblets of wine; the love shared between her mother and father warmed her heart even as her mother's brave endeavor to reign in her evident sadness broke it. "Here, mother..."

Vannozza took her goblet from her daughter as she comported herself further. "Thank you, my love. So...enough about me, hmm? Tell me all about Ferrara...and your visit to Mantua..."

"In a moment, mother, I am worried about you."

"Oh," Vannozza tossed her head back with a heavy sigh and then faced her daughter again; she leveled a serene smile at her as she wiped the last of her tears away with a delicate pass of the back of her hand. "Do not mind me, Lucrezia—you're here, now—my joy is much increased, believe me."

"Why has he called me back now, mother, do you know?"

"I do not, my love. He and Cesare have been much taken up in their endeavor to secure the Romagna; I had not spoken to him before he summoned me to inform me of your coming; all I addressed at the time was my wish to have you come here; he told me of his treacherous return from Elba, but as happy as I was to see him again I found that I could not leave the Vatican soon enough."

"How was the trip to Elba?"

"A success, most assuredly; they visited their established fortifications, ordered new ones to be built; your father's presence, and his liberal dispensation of funds throughout the lands, starting in Piombino, have made him and your brother both very popular with the people, and the duchy is secured. The voyage back to Rome, however..." Vannozza gave a incredulous little shake of her head, "six ships set sail on the voyage; your father and Cesare sailed separately and they were caught up at the very beginning in a terrible storm, you see—they they were five days on board ship with provisions for two days only; it was no easy task, but they managed to live on fried fish caught from the tempest that was the sea; Cesare went on to Corneto, but his vessel was unable to dock there; he went ashore as your father was obliged to sail onward and into the worst part of his voyage."

"What happened?"

"The seas remained stormy and troubled—it is all the talk of Rome, daughter—and how they hate to admit the courageousness of your father—for he alone showed not an ounce of fear, even as all who were with him were stricken with sickness or overcome by their fear of certain death. I heard the tales of him, sitting in his arm chair, on the bridge of his ship during the entire storm, calling on Jesus on behalf of them all, making the sign of the cross with astounding and unwavering faith until they reached their safety at Pontercole."

"My good Lord!" That they were alright was confirmed by the fact that her father and brother were back in Rome, but Lucrezia's mind at the moment was filled with the horrors of a more tragic outcome had the voyage gone any worse; she struggled to banish such thoughts out of her head as she listened to her mother.

"Indeed. He rejoined Cesare in Corneto and they made their way slowly back to Rome. He summoned me immediately upon his return; there was much on his mind, Lucrezia, but neither he nor Cesare had time to tell me any more other than the fact that he needed to talk to you—Cesare was more than ready to come to you until we received word that you would come home instead..." Vannozza gave a curious frown at her. "Lucrezia, you know that I am more than ecstatic to have you home, but is everything alright with you and Alfonso? Why did he not come with you? He would have been welcomed, and—"

So, Lucrezia realized then, that her mother truly had no idea what her father was about. "Considering that which has happened, mother, it seems it was truly the better choice for me to come home instead of sending Cesare away on another journey. I don't know what father wants, but I felt it best to find out on my own..." she began truthfully, "...Alfonso was happy to honor my wish," she concluded with a lie.

"And how is Alfonso? And the Duke? Did you get on well with the Marquessa of Mantua? May I look forward to a granddaughter any time soon?"

"Mother, please..." Lucrezia frowned as she shifted uneasily in her chair.

"Yes—I would love to be blessed with a niece...to go along with my two fine nephews..." came his bold voice from behind her, dripping with just the barest hint of mockery discernible only to Lucrezia's ears.

"Cesare!" Vannozza beamed a smile at him as she looked up to find him standing in the entryway. "How in the world did I not hear you? Come here, my love! Come welcome your sister home..." she said as she rose to receive him.

"You were both engrossed in your conversation, that's all..." he said as he approached. "Mother..." he gave her a warm, strong hug and a kiss to the cheek.

"I thought you would only be able to come with your father tonight...he is still coming, is he not?"

"He is."

In her seat Lucrezia sat rigid and strangely detached from the reality of her brother, who stood before her with a strange little smile upon his face and a steady gaze upon her with eyes full of—what? Anger? Amusement? Contempt? Her own detachment mirrored back at her?

"Sister..." Cesare opened his arms to her.

Lucrezia rose up from her seat to be received.

"My warm welcome home to you, sis."

"And mine to you, brother."

The siblings gave each other their chaste hugs and kisses under the happy gaze of their mother.

"Ah! This is well enough—we will be up late tonight, catching each other up and we might as well wait until your father can join us, yes?" Vannozza smiled at her children. "I have dinner to prepare, and Lucrezia, I'm sure you would like to take your rest after your long ride today—your rooms are prepared...I can have a bath drawn for you if you wish...Cesare, are you staying or is this just a quick visit before must you get back to your father?"

"Just a quick visit—I could not resist the urge a moment longer to come and see the smile upon your face at having your daughter back home, mother," he smiled genuinely at Vannozza.

"At having you both back home, my love." Vannozza gave them both another happy kiss upon their cheeks. "Alright then, I must get back to the kitchen—so much to do! Go on, then, both of you, I am preparing all of your favorites for a lovely feast...to your rest, Lucrezia, and Cesare, I shall see you later this evening..." she said as they both watched her rush excitedly away.

Cesare turned to face his sister who was still staring at the entryway after their mother was gone. "Well, sister—would you like an escort to you room?"

Lucrezia turned and defiantly faced her brother. "And why would I need an escort to my room? I know the way to my room."

"So that we may talk..."

"I thought that you had to get back to father."

"Surely you know I told mother that so that she would not expect me to sit about underfoot, Lucrezia..."

"And what will we talk about?"

"Whatever you wish."

"I wish to know what father has to tell me, brother." In her voice was a sure warning.

"Now that you are here it would be better for you to hear it from him, sis," he said simply.

"It is about the children?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"It is about the children," he confirmed.

"The look upon your face does not ease my heart, Cesare."

Cesare looked uncomfortably away from her gaze and over her head. "I am sorry for that."

"So, you refuse to tell me then?"

"It would be better for you to hear it from father," he repeated.

"You are angry at me, Cesare—why?"

"I am not angry at you, but you are surely angry at me Lucrezia," he looked down at her then.

"It was in your voice...in your eyes, only moments ago..."

"Then you greatly misread me, sis," he said as he put a tender palm to her cheek. "What has given you such an idea?"

The touch of his hand upon her brought her out of the shock of seeing him again; out of her anger at him, just a little bit, over his refusal to divulge what he knew.

"Moments ago our mother told me of your imperiled return to Rome; all I could think of was the unthinkable—you and father gone from us, and thank God you are both safe. But here we are, caught up in the familiar politics within our own family that ever consists of secrets and lies."

"What lies, sis?"

"You lied to mother just now; she knows nothing about the children, so neither you or father have divested yourselves of the habit of keeping secrets."

"It is not a secret, about the children, but the news will make neither you or mother happy, Lucrezia!" he told her, his voice loud and full of frustration.

"Of course it won't." Lucrezia turned her back to him.

"I don't want to talk about this here," he said tersely as he tried to calm himself, "let us go to your room and—"

"There is no point to that if you will not tell me truly what is to be their disposition, Cesare," she cut him off.

"There is very much a point to that, sis—I have missed you; I desire to know the state of affairs between you and your husband—is he treating you well?"

"Oh, I see—I must answer your questions while you answer none of mine."

Cesare took gentle hold of her shoulders and turned his sister to face him. "Why—look at me..." he ordered her softly and waited for her angry eyes to meet his apologetic ones. "Why are we quarreling? Hmm? Why?"

Lucrezia had no answer for him.

"Come away with me, my love—privacy...we need privacy; I promise to tell you that which you desire to know..." he relented, "that which is your right to know. Come..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They were in her old suite, unspoiled and unchanged from the days she that had lived there before she took up residence at Castel Sant'Angelo. She went to her armoire and opened it up to reveal an array of dresses that brought a light chuckle from her.

"Shame on mother—I haven't even thought of these dresses since I was twelve years old..." she said as she traced the fabric of one frock gingerly.

"You should see my old room—it's positively embarrassing," Cesare harrumphed. "We will be her babies forever, it seems."

Lucrezia nodded her agreement as she closed the door then turned to face him. "Yes, so it seems."

"Sit down, sis."

Lucrezia did as instructed and sat upon the edge of her old bed; Cesare grabbed a wooden chair that was sitting under a window, brought it over and set it before her as he straddled it and rested his arms on the back of it; he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"My love...Giovanni has been named as an heir to the duchy of Nepi; he will come to court with you when you return to Ferrara as your half-brother; he arrives here tomorrow—Miracella will bring him back to you—they will be here before nightfall." Cesare watched as she visibly steeled herself for the rest, reluctant himself to deliver it. "Rodrigo will depart for Naples, my love...to inherit his father's properties and rightful place as Duke of Bisceglie of the House of Trastámara; from His Holiness he will be given his title as Duke of Sermoneta; he will be delivered by our beloved brother, Gioffre, and live with his aunt, Sancia of Aragon."

"What? Am I never to see him again? Not even one more time?"

"I'm sorry, sis..."

"And Sancia of Aragon? My baby is to be left alone with Sancia, is that what you are telling me?"

"Gioffre must return to Nepi my love, only for a time, and will then re-join Rodrigo in Naples."

"Sancia has no love for a Borgia..."

"She did once..."

"And what a mess that was. She is ill, I understand—who will really look out for my child?"

"Miracella loves both of your children as her own—" he reminded her desperately.

"That she does, but I promised that I would release her to her own life when the affairs of my children were settled, she is to be married to Dante Pileggio..."

"Your former head coachman?"

"Yes."

"That is with her now in Nepi?"

"Yes."

"Nothing is to stop them from remaining together, then, or marrying, sis, you may keep your promise, still..."

"If she wants that, Cesare, and who would? I am afraid for all of my loved ones in the House of Aragon..." Lucrezia rose up from the bed and began her worried pace of the floor.

"Rodrigo will be fine, my love..." he tried to assure her.

Lucrezia stopped in her tracks to face him. "You cannot truly promise me that and you know it, Cesare."

"Well, there is nothing else that can be done."

"How can you say that? Rodrigo could very well be yours..."

"And if we knew it certainly, what then? His life would be ruined before it began, Lucrezia, you know this to be true!" Cesare cried out as he rose from the chair and kicked it violently out of his way; he went to her and took her into his desperate embrace.

"So father was going to send you to Ferrara with this horrid news..."

"Yes, with Giovanni in my arms to hand over to you—why did you decide to come here? There is trouble with Alfonso? Do not lie to me..."

"Yes, brother, there is ever trouble with Alfonso..."

"What now?"

"What it always is—you; had you come to me in Ferrara Alfonso promised to kill you, but I know that the murder I truly prevented was his own."

Above her Cesare gave a shake of his head in disgust. "How long will you stay in Rome?"

"As long as I please...or, at least until I reconcile myself to the abomination that is my life and can face my husband with even a semblance of the courage of my convictions—in spite of it all we continue to honor the bargain between us." Lucrezia broke away from him.

"Do you truly even want to return to Ferrara, Lucrezia?"

"Of course I don't, but I have no other choices, do I?" she leveled at him through tight lips.

"Will you not tell me what your life has been like these past months? I have been so worried about you, my love..." he approached her again, ready to take her back into his arms but Lucrezia backed away from him.

"I have no more use for words at this moment, Cesare; there are not enough words—nor enough time—in this world to help me with my unburdening; I have not even the tears at this moment; they may come later or never again. What I do have is a headache, brother; maybe tomorrow night I'll have the strength to relate the sad state of affairs between Alfonso and myself to you, but at this moment I need a nap to refresh myself, for I've quite the performance to put on tonight for mother and father..." Lucrezia went to her bed and laid down tiredly upon it. "I am the same as you and father, after all—full of secrets and lies..." she murmured as she settled herself on her side and stared blankly at the space before her.

Cesare joined her on the bed then, laying on his side to face her and then clasped her hands within his own.

"I will not leave you now, sis," he murmured at her as he put his forehead to hers.

"I did not ask you to leave me now, brother," she said quietly as her eyes focused on him and then closed slowly shut.


	54. Bread And Water To Sate Us

Lucrezia stirred slowly out of her slumber several hours later, momentarily disoriented by her surroundings but warmed immediately at the sight and feel of her brother next to her, still clasping her hands and sleeping soundly. Or so she thought; when she made a slight move to disengage herself his eyes flew open in alarm; he held her fast and the worried frown on his upon face was immediate.

"Lucrezia, are you alright? Where are you going?"

"I'm fine, Cesare, it was not my wish to wake you."

He let out a little sigh at her. "You've been keeping me awake most of this fine evening, my love—I'm afraid your sleep was quite a fitful affair..."

"I had terrible dreams...thank God I don't remember them well at this moment..."

"I am sorry about that..."

"It isn't your fault."

"Isn't it?" he asked her in a whisper laced with full and deep regret.

"No, my love, not that look..." she whispered back as she reached her hand out and softly traced the contour of his face. "We must rise, I'm sure; I'll barely have time for a bath..."

"You'll have plenty of time, sis—then sun has not even completely set, you see?" he motioned with his eyes toward the window.

Lucrezia looked back over her shoulder at the fading sunlight coming through it then back at her brother.

"So it seems; mother will come knocking soon to call us to dinner, I'm sure—she must not find us this way..."

"Dinner will be late tonight—father will not be able to get away anytime before nine—mother knows this already; I suspect with all of the food that she's been preparing she's having a nap of her own right about now, hmm?" Cesare took one of his sister's hands and gave the palm of it a loving kiss. "Hmm?"

"Maybe," she smiled back at him. "I'm sorry that my sleep disturbed yours, Cesare."

"Not at all, sis; every moment that I have to be with you...to look upon this beauteous face...to hold you close to me..." Cesare brushed a soft, wayward golden spiral away from her eyes, "is cherished, my love...I only wish that your slumber had been less troubled...much less troubled..."

They shared a long moment of silence, unable to tear their eyes away from each other; Lucrezia gave in, at last, to the mischievous gleam that was growing in his eyes in the dim twilight and met them with a mischievous look in her own.

"What is going through that lovely head of yours, hmm?" he smiled back at her.

"What is going through yours?" A playful smile had formed fully on her face. "I told you that I have no use for words now, brother..." The slow, soft swish of her gown as she nuzzled closer to him announced the languid journey of her leg seeking out his hip to drape itself over.

"Oh?" He gave her a very concentrated once-over full of unbridled lust as he aided her possession of him by positioning himself to be better received. "Then how will I ever know what is on your mind? If you don't express your...words...to me? Hmm, sis?" He slid his arm under her and around her waist.

Lucrezia said nothing as she untied a lace on the bodice of her gown, never breaking her gaze away from Cesare's.

"What's that, you say?" he feigned his ignorance at her, "I can't hear you, sis...you really..." he made to come in and give a sweet kiss to her neck, "...must speak louder..." he murmured at her.

Before his lips could make contact Lucrezia stopped him by gently pushing him away; the confused look on his face then was genuine.

"What's this?"

With one hand against his breast Lucrezia held him at bay as she used her other to continue loosening her bodice enough to free one creamy breast from its silk taffeta prison; feeling the full effect of her desire for him she fondled herself, her delicate, pink nipple already hard and yearning for his attention; her gentle touch upon herself became more insistent, and—to his own appreciative surprise—rougher, as her whole body began to writhe sensuously against his.

"Argh..." came Cesare's impassioned grunt at her, "I hear you, sister...allow me the honor..."

Still Lucrezia said nothing; she pushed him away again as he descended upon her with lips more eager than the moment before; his hand was ready to deliver hers from its own torrid endeavor, yet she continued silently to refuse him.

"You are speaking to me, indeed, sis, but I'm positive..." he grunted at her as he threw her hand off of him, his brow furrowed at her in sure irritation, "that I do not like what I am hearing...be still.." he warned her; he took control of her and threw her unceremoniously over onto her back as she struggled against him, determined, still, to utter no words. "What is this, sis? Are you playing games with me?" Cesare asked her through gritted teeth as he pawed at her bodice, his whole body aching to possess her. "Are you?" he demanded roughly.

Lucrezia used both of her hands to try and push him off but he took hold of them angrily and gave her a little shake; when she relented Cesare gave her a reprimanding look then made to bring his desire for her to full reality, at last; Lucrezia stopped him again.

"Lucrezia! What—"

She cut off his frustrated plea with a finger to his lips and a little shake of her head at him; again she took her bare breast in hand and resumed pleasuring herself, holding his gaze to hers, meaning for him to watch her; suddenly he was aware of her other hand, which had begun a slow journey up the side of his torso, then the outside of his arm, then his neck; finally she reached the nape of his neck—her true target—and grabbed a handful of his long, curled locks.

Cesare was angry and rigid, unsure of her intent and immobile, even under her strong tug at him as she tried to guide his lips to hers for a kiss.

"No."

She gave a stronger yank at him.

"Ouch! That hurt..."

Lucrezia smiled up at him devilishly.

"What are you about, sister, I won't ask you again," he declared angrily at her.

Lucrezia released his soft locks then and traveled her fingertips then to his neck where she pressed lightly upon it and guided him back down to her again, with a look in her eyes that begged for his compliance.

"Whaaat, sister?" he groaned his consternation at her even as he yielded to her, then happily realized that she meant to return him to his desired destination. "Yes...at last..." he sighed his relief as he reached it, then took a nipple into his mouth and began to suckle her; he finished with her after a time, reluctant to release her yet eager to give his equal attention, when Lucrezia stopped him abruptly, then rose up and straddled him, as hungry as she was to give to him as she was to receive from him; she grabbed again at his head and pulled him forward by handfuls of his hair, every nerve in her body on fire for him as she fed him the other mound he had been clamoring for.

"Talk to me, sister..." he begged her between his desperate kisses upon her, " _talk_ to me..."

But Lucrezia was totally lost in the ecstasy of him; his hands upon her; his mouth upon her; his very special attention and the sheer brute force of his desire that she had gone so long without, had not realized for such a time, that all of their previous times together seemed as if they were only hints of faded memories, worse, exquisite dreams destined ever, upon waking, to be lost to time and space.

"Cesare..." she moaned his name at last as she pushed him savagely down upon her bed and then dove at him, seeking to emancipate him from his breeches.

Cesare was both shocked and pleasantly surprised at his sister's wanton behavior. "Lucrezia, this is so unlike you..." he managed through the fervent assault of her kisses.

"Is that a complaint, brother?" she asked after she finally freed the beast in his breeches and slid down to greet him properly.

"Ahh...no, sis...ahh..." Cesare found that he was not only enjoying his sister's greatly increased skill but the enthusiasm with which she employed in using them. "Are you trying to send me to Heaven, sis? For this would surely be...ohh...ahh..." he labored through his ecstatic groans at her, "the way that I would wish to go...ahh...Lu...cre...zia...yes..."

"I should have stayed with you that night, brother..." she said after she released him reluctantly from her mouth; he raised his hips to assist her in removing his breeches fully, "and how I've regretted leaving you then..." she threw them away to the floor and began to work on his doublet. "I shall not live that regret again..."

Mesmerized by her words, and her intent, Cesare took over the task and hurriedly finished undressing himself, then rewarded her with a triumphant kiss when he was naked, at last.

"Please...help me out of this wretched gown!"

Cesare raised her up with him, tore her bodice away and pulled the ruined gown down over her shoulders, and with it, her delicate silk chemise. "I have missed you so...worried after you with every waking thought..." he moaned into her neck before he placed a sweet kiss upon it.

Lucrezia took his face into her hands, put her forehead to his and closed her eyes as she gave a teasing bite to his bottom lip. "Yes?"

"Oh, yes..."

Her opened eyes upon him then were full of wicked challenge. "Show me..."

Cesare gave her a hungry peck upon her lips and threw her down onto the bed; at that moment they both heard the far-off creak of a door.

"No..." Lucrezia moaned out in agony, "please tell me that my ears deceive me..."

"I heard it, too..." he whispered at her.

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia, my love, wake up!" Vannozza's voice sang out to her.

"Mother..." Cesare gasped, his body frozen with fear at the idea of discovery.

"Quickly, brother—to the floor—under the bed! I shall deflect her..." she said frantically as she stuffed her damaged gown beneath the covers.

Cesare sprang out of his temporary shock and into action at her command.

Lucrezia grabbed her chemise to clothe herself with and realized, in great horror, that it was too damaged to use, even for the momentary ruse of cover "Oh! No...no..." she stuffed it under the cover as well, even as she heard her mother's footsteps travel through the small anteroom and closer to her bedchamber door; she sprang out of the bed in a panic.

Seconds later her door burst open to reveal her mother, a curious look on her face that gave way immediately to a very definite frown of pure and unbridled confusion.

"What on God's earth? What is this? Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Mother..." Lucrezia turned away from her armoire to face Vannozza.

"Lucrezia, what..."

"It's absurd, I know...I...I've been reliving my innocent years, mother, when my life—and my frocks—were so much simpler," she said through a nervous chuckle. "And see? They still fit..."

Vannozza looked askance at her daughter then leveled her familiar little crooked smile at her. "Barely..." she said as she approached her daughter with an outstretched hand; she put the back of it to her daughter's forehead. "Are you well, my darling?"

"Oh, mother..." Lucrezia took her mother's hand away from her and kissed it gently. "I am fine..."

Vannozza gave her a skeptical look. "I'm sorry to barge in on you thus, but I've had word that your father will be here soon, happy that his business at the Vatican has concluded much sooner than anticipated—I have already ordered our baths drawn, my love, do prepare yourself, hmm?"

"Yes, mother, thank you."

Vannozza's eyes were drawn suddenly to Lucrezia's violently disheveled covers upon the bed. "Good Lord—what happened there?"

"I had fitful dreams, mother, during my short nap—from them sprang this desire to visit happier times by trying on my old frocks..."

"Happier times? Simple times? Lucrezia, what is your trouble, my love? Is everything truly alright in Ferrara? You must tell me..." Vannozza's brow was knitted worriedly at her.

"Just bad dreams, mother; I have had many as I've waited to hear word from father about my babies, that's all, really," she tried to assure her.

"Oh, my love..." Vannozza took Lucrezia into her loving embrace, "I have suffered under the same suspense, as well..." Vannozza fingered the sleeve of Lucrezia's frock and smiled to herself. "Forgive me this indulgence for I suppose I have been doing the same, daughter; get dressed, my love—you are a child no more—and I am sure that, soon, your own children will be reunited with you." She gave her a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Hmm?"

"Yes, mother, I pray that your words will be so."

"Alright, then, I shall see you at dinner—hurry, now."

"Yes, mother."

Vannozza left her; as soon as the door closed behind her Cesare rose from his hiding place and faced his sister, shaking his head at their close call; they stood silently as they waited for the anteroom door to close, and upon hearing it, both broke out in scandalized giggles at each other.

"That was truly inspired, sis..." he said as he strolled over to her.

Lucrezia gave him an overly-exaggerated curtsey. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Come here—" he yanked her roughly into his embrace.

"Yes, brother, we will finish this—tonight—away from these walls, if we must," she said softly as his lips approached hers, "first, bread and water to sate us...and then a banquet feast..."

"Nothing, sister..." he nuzzled her nose gently with his own, then turned her abruptly about and took possessive hold of her, lavishing her with his sensual, almost vulgar caresses, "will keep me from it..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia, my love!"

"Father..."

He was waiting for them in the dining room already; Rodrigo rushed over to her, gathered her up into his arms and lifted her joyously up off of the floor "My darling daughter..." he gave her a sweet kiss and set her gently down. "I want to hear everything! Just the idea of your new-found joy—ah! My love, you don't know how the thought of your happiness has helped me master my most trying tribulations these past months...ah! Come—do sit—and do not leave out even one detail!" he said excitedly as he led them all, his daughter by her hand, to the dining table.

Rodrigo truly did want to hear everything about Lucrezia's first months in her new home and of her trip to Mantua; unbeknownst to Lucrezia, her father had agreed earlier on with Cesare to enjoy the first day of his reunion with her by discussing happier matters before he broke the bad news about Little Rodrigo.

Unbeknownst to Rodrigo, Lucrezia had already heard it from Cesare.

Unbeknownst to all of her family, Lucrezia was leaving out all of the worst experiences with her husband; even though Cesare had not all of the details they were forthcoming, and he knew better than his parents of the truest nature of of her troubles with Alfonso. She regaled them all instead with her happy and wondrous accounts of the sights and sounds she had experienced in Ferrara, including her abbreviated trip to Mantua.

"Artistic delights abounded around every corner, inside the Palazzo Ducale, and without its walls, as well. I have been invited back by my sister-in-law, the Marquessa, to come and stay for a proper and much longer visit."

"That is most marvelous, my love, I am so happy to hear it..." Rodrigo reached across from the head of the table and gave his daughter's hand a happy squeeze; seated to his right and directly across from Lucrezia, Vannozza lifted her goblet as the others followed suit.

"To our daughter and the continued success of her most happy marriage," she beamed her smile upon them all.

Lucrezia nodded her silent thanks at them all as she joined in the toast, and then settled her eyes back upon her plate; seated next to her Cesare did the same as a knowing little smirk formed upon his face.

"Hear, hear!" Rodrigo gave her hand another little happy squeeze. "Cesare, did you attend to the matters that called you so urgently away from me earlier today?" he asked his son as he got back to the business of attending to his plate.

Cesare shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his looked over at his father. "Uh, yes, father, I did."

Vannozza gave her son a curious look.

"Mother, you've outdone yourself with this roast duck..." Cesare said to her then.

She raised an eyebrow at him and was about to speak when Rodrigo spoke again.

"Good—I shall need to talk to you after dinner tonight, then—the issue we were discussing before? Hmm?"

"I must gather more information, father, before we may finish that discussion," Cesare begged off.

"Oh?"

"Yes—I'll be...better informed...in the morning."

"Enough—what's all of this, now? What are you both being so secretive about?"

Rodrigo chuckled. "Ah, but you love secrets, my love, do you not?"

"When I am in on them, yes I do."

Rodrigo laughed out loud. "It is only politics, my love, nothing for you to be concerned with. What we _may_ discuss openly, my son, in front of your mother and sister, is the progress of your esteemed military engineer, da Vinci—how's he coming along with the map of the Val di Chiana?"

"It is finished, and not a moment too soon, I'd hazard to say."

"He seems to have trouble finishing things, does he not?" Lucrezia asked her brother then.

"What? What do you mean?"

"While I was in Mantua the Marquessa was having her fair share of trouble with him—she commissioned a portrait of herself to be done by him which he started but, as yet, remains unfinished, it seems—she was most most unhappy about it."

"Well, I cannot speak to his commitments before my employment of him, but I am most satisfied with his work to date, sister," Cesare smiled at her.

"Are you really? Satisfied?"

Cesare cocked his head at her in question. "Well, as satisfied as it is possible to be at this point, sister."

"I hope so, brother...it is very important for one to...finish things, yes?"

Rodrigo and Vannozza exchanged quizzical glances at one another.

"You are correct, sister."

"Lucrezia, what has gotten into you?" Vannozza asked her then.

"Nothing has gotten into me, mother, that is the problem," Lucrezia said under her breath before she could catch her tongue.

"What? What did you say?"

Cesare turned his eyes back to his plate, but under the table he grabbed hold of his sister's hand and gave it a conspiratorial squeeze. "Yet, anyway..." he said under his breath.

Lucrezia choked on a morsel of bread as a little chuckle escaped her. "Oh..."

"Are you alright, Lucrezia? Cesare—pass the wine—quickly..." Vannozza frantically ordered him.

"I'm alright, really, mother..."

"Well, what is so funny, then? You must let us in on the joke..."

Rodrigo eyed his children suspiciously. "Yes, Cesare, do tell—what did you say?"

"Nothing, father...nothing."

"Lucrezia, really..."

"I'm sorry, mother, I think I'm just a bit over-tired."

"You've had a long day, sister...I'm sure you would like to get to bed, yes?"

"Yes, I would."

"Mother, everything was splendid—I don't know how you managed to keep it to five courses, but the hour is late and I've a meeting with Micheletto..." Cesare turned to face his father, "who will provide me with the information that you desire, father."

"Ah, well, very good," Rodrigo resigned himself. "Lucrezia, tomorrow we shall address that which you have been called home to discuss, my love."

"Will you keep me in suspense still, father? Can you not just come out with it now?"

Rodrigo rose from his seat and took the short steps to hers. "Daughter, I assure you that all will be revealed..." he helped her up out of her seat and into his embrace, "and that tomorrow is the much better day to hear it, hmm? Get yourself yourself a good night's sleep; enjoy your day with your mother; tomorrow evening we shall reconvene here and I shall be better able to address those things which concern you most." He gave her a kiss to her forehead.

"Yes, father, tomorrow evening, then."

"Goodnight, all—sister, so good to have you home again," Cesare rose and gave a chaste kiss to her cheek, then went to his mother and did the same. "Mother."

"Goodnight, my love."

"Father—tomorrow morning."

"Very good, my son."

Both men gave a stern nod at each other and then Cesare left them. As the servants came in to clear the table Lucrezia gave her final kisses to her parents and departed from them.

"And what about you? Must I be abandoned by you all?" Vannozza asked Rodrigo.

"It is almost two in the morning, my love—aren't you the slightest bit tired?"

Vannozza sidled up to him, a sly smile upon her face, and waited for the first round of dishes to be carried out by the servants; when they were alone she traced the fine curve of Rodrigo's mouth with her finger and then trailed her hand down the length of him, stopping it just above the bugle under his robe.

"Hmm..." he growled down at her then released a deep groan of pleasure as Vannozza took him possessively in hand.

"Only as tired as you are..." she purred at him.


	55. The Bargain That We Made

Cesare had slipped easily and unseen into Lucrezia's room; already undressed and waiting for her behind her bedroom door, he captured her when she entered and showered her with urgent, playful kisses as he began the immediate task of helping her to undress.

"Do we dare, my love?" she whispered at him, assisting him in his fevered desire to feel her naked skin against his own once more.

"You are home, my love, where you are ever mine...did you forget?" he whispered back at her.

With eyes full of nothing but her love and desire for him Lucrezia found herself able only to give a slow shake of her head in response.

He lowered himself to one knee as he pulled her gown and chemise down to her feet and helped her to step out of them. "Mother and father are happily taken up with one another...as long as I leave before they stir in the morning..." he looked up at her then with a self-assured little smirk on his face, "we should be fine..." he planted a sweet kiss on her knee and then traveled more of them up to the inside of her thigh; above him Lucrezia threw her head back as a low moan of pleasure and anticipation escaped her.

"Maybe...maybe we should go back to your apartments..." she gasped as she felt his kisses reach the innermost deliciousness of her quivering thighs, "at Castel Sant'Angelo..." she was almost breathless; her pulse exploded under her skin like miniscule bursts of cannon fire as she felt him settle the first insistent kiss upon the golden down between them; Cesare grabbed hold of her luscious bottom, hugging her to him; Lucrezia's hands flew to his head, where she ran her fingers through the thick tendrils of his hair and pushed them back so that she could see his face.

He managed, somehow, to tear himself momentarily away from her. "We would have even less time to ourselves, my love—we are here now..." he said as he rose up slowly; his hands followed the soft, tantalizing curves over the whole of her delicate little body and he drank her lustily in with the whole of his own body and soul; his hands ended their journey, finally, lost in the abundance of her golden locks spilling through his fingers, "...and now I must have you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some hours later they lay peacefully together, Lucrezia on her back, her head propped upon her pillow staring absently at the ceiling as she stroked Cesare's hair, while Cesare lay on his side, using her bosom as his pillow, holding her nipple closest to his mouth as his constant hostage.

"This pleasure is driving me mad brother...I had no idea that there could be so much pleasure contained in this world...you really must stop..." she panted at him.

Cesare delicately shook his head "no", never once releasing his captive.

She thought back to their previous hours together, of the rough-and-tumble savagery of their lovemaking, so far removed from the tenderness she was sharing with him then, even as she threatened to yield, at any moment, to his call for a repeat performance.

"Are they connected to me...down there, Cesare?" she begged an answer from him as she led his free hand to the river flowing between her legs. "Your mouth upon me like this...keeps me ready for more of you..." Lucrezia's body, writhing beneath him as if she was in a fever, further corroborated her mounting and already orgasmic desire.

Cesare released her then to raise up and still her growing frenzy; he took her chin delicately in hand, gave a gentle kiss to her sweet mouth, and looked deeply into her eyes when they opened to focus upon his. "Then you shall have more of me..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dawn had already broken and, even though they had dared not to waste a moment by sleeping, neither of them was even remotely tired.

"Do you forgive me for Dorotea Carracciuola, Lucrezia?" Cesare asked her softly as he cradled her in his arms; Lucrezia turned herself around to face him.

"I do not, Cesare."

His look of apology melted her heart; he made to speak and Lucrezia shushed him with a finger to his lips. "I do understand, Cesare."

"Do you really or are you just telling me that?"

Lucrezia ignored his question. "She invited me to come and visit her in Venice, can you believe that?"

Cesare kissed one of Lucrezia's hands as he smiled to himself. "I can..." he gave her hand another kiss. "Many speak ill of her, but she is a lady, through and through, with a heart as big as your own; I can easily believe that her regard for you would not only be friendly, but genuine, and that your reciprocation would be honored."

"Really? Even as she would endeavor to keep your heart for her own, Cesare?"

"Even more so, because she knows that is a thing that is not possible in this world, sis."

"So you say, brother. So many beautiful women in the world—it must be wonderful to be a man," she harrumphed and then turned over and gave her back to him.

"Lucrezia, stop this..." he began softly, "you are a woman desired—Alfonso is angry because he wants you...he wants this..." Cesare reached around her and put a palm over her heart. "Someday, if he can find his right mind and treat you in a way that is deserving of your favor, he may very well have it."

"That is unlikely, my love...highly unlikely," she said disgustedly into her pillow.

"Not so unlikely. So...what happened, exactly, Lucrezia? What has he done? How have you been, truly? I would have no guilt over making you his widow," he informed her matter-of-factly as he gave a kiss to her shoulder.

"Don't say that..."

"You broke no promise to him that night..."

"I have broken my promise to him now..."

Cesare gave his indignant harrumph at her then. "And he deserves it."

"How do you know that? I have not even told you—"

Cesare turned her over roughly to face him. "You're here...in my arms...are you not?" he reminded her sternly.

Lucrezia had no reply for him.

"Though it would break my heart I would still be happy for you if you had found your true happiness in him; I would, sis. You must tell what he has done."

"He has been himself, Cesare. The words he spoke to me at our betrothal—I think that he believed them himself well-enough, but he is a jealous man; and he is wounded of heart, and caught up on the treacherous landscape that all Italian nobles reside upon; I do not claim to understand him completely, but I have had some very definite insights into him in our brief time together, and they have not been pleasant. Nor very surprising, I'm afraid."

"Enlighten me, sis."

Lucrezia hesitated; Cesare waited patiently; finally, it all came spilling out of her in a torrent: Alfonso's words to her as they left the wedding altar; the horrid moment in the carriage on the ride away to Ferrara when she realized just how vicious he could be towards her; the humiliation she suffered upon their arrival at Castello Estense, when he tried to dismiss her and went off brazenly with Lady Carracciuola in front of the entire household; what she had learned of him through the tales of the old Duke, and the history that rounded those tales out given by Cardinal Bembo; how that history had been the key to her escape back to Rome.

With the telling of each account Cesare's lips grew more tightly drawn up in anger, and she could see his muscles working furiously under his skin through his clenched jaws; could practically feel the heat of his anger rolling off of him like little blasts of heat from a warming fire.

"I will kill him..."

His gaze then was focused far beyond her and his calm, quiet pronouncement was utterly chilling; Lucrezia knew well that her brother's threat was not an empty one. "No Cesare—we honor the bargain, still—as in any proper alliance," she pleaded at him.

"It is not the bargain he made with me," he shot at her, his nostrils flaring.

"No...it isn't, Cesare—but it is the bargain that he made with me," she said quietly.

He focused his eyes upon her truly and they stared each other down.

"It is more than tenuous, at best, sister." His anger had not abated from his eyes, or his voice.

"I will grant you that, but the Cardinal was correct—the information that I possess holds him securely at bay..."

"Maybe so, sis, but for how long?"

"The Cardinal is my protector now—and my fiery Lagotto pup—Princess—who was by my side every moment after my return from the Coparius, and awaits me now..."

"Dogs are good—better than overly-enamored priests biding their time until they can get into your bed."

"Cesare..."

"He helps you because he wants you, Lucrezia, do not fool yourself that his intentions are noble."

"I know that he wants me, Cesare, but I do not want him."

"And that really makes a difference at the crucial moment, hmm?" he leveled gruffly at her.

"Cesare, please..." she began uncomfortably.

"These are men you are dealing with, Lucrezia, not boys, as your second husband was; I have killed two of your husbands, hmm?" He gave an angry nod at her seeking her confirmation.

"Cesare...please calm yourself, my love..."

"Again I say, I would happily kill the third—based on what you've told me, he has given me reason enough already."

"Will you spend your lifetime killing my husbands, Cesare? And so what if you did, I would be betrothed to another brute of our father's choosing, that's all. No, I will stick with the Devil that I have come to know rather than deal with a new one that I do not, brother, thank you very much," she said disgustedly.

"Are you aware, sister, how impossible this makes it for me to concentrate on the tasks that lie ahead of me?"

"And what _are_ the tasks lie ahead of you, brother? How much longer, Cesare, before you come into your own and become independent of our father, and more precisely, of his position as Pope of Rome? Never mind me and Alfonso, my love—what has your life been like these past months?"

Cesare pulled his sister up with him to sit properly and face her. "I have made stunning progress this past year, Lucrezia; I must ever deal with the back-biting Sons of Rome, nipping at my heels like vicious, rabid dogs, waiting for the right moment to try and tear me to shreds..."

"Cesare..."

"Calm yourself, my love, please; I discovered a major plot against me months ago and it will all soon come to a head—the news I have for father is real and already known to me—I shall strike a terrible blow against them and soon—they won't know what hit them.

"You spoke of da Vinci earlier—he continues to serve me well, sister; what your Marquessa does not realize is that he has headier matters to deal with than capturing her perfect smile upon a canvas; the map that he has just finished will aid me tremendously as I press on in my endeavor to conquer the Romagna, trust me when I tell you that." A sneer grew upon his face then. "And then there is Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere—"

"I have only wished truly for the death of two people in my life, brother—he is one of them. When La Bella and I were captives of King Charles, I could have been knocked over with a feather when he came through the tent and then made it known that his plan was to depose our father—to say that I was outraged—well, that is an understatement. They call our father the Menace of Rome, but della Rovere is the true menace—the Siege of Lucca was an abomination, Cesare, all of those innocent lives lost...and for what?"

Cesare nodded his head solemnly at his sister in agreement. "Most of my battles thus far have been rather boring...almost too easy..." he gave a disgusted grunt, "I prefer to fight them on the field, away from innocents...and spare them by every means possible—I pride myself on it. My only regret is that I have not had a battle vigorous enough to find della Rovere caught successfully between carefully-aimed lances or cannonballs..."

Lucrezia gave a sympathetic nod of her head.

"But I do have a plan for him, sister; not as optimal as death, but one that will send him impotently on to the French he seems to love so well."

"And how will you achieve that, brother? It is a dangerous game that you play with the French king..."

"We have honored all of our agreements with King Louis, Lucrezia—he wanted a divorce—he obtained it; he wanted to share the spoils of Naples with Queen Isabella and his investiture was granted; we have honored all of our terms with him—he will do the same for me."

"What is taking him so long to send the promised troops to you? It is the talk of Rome still...I even heard delicate mention of it in Mantua..."

"Yes, our enemies would like to count me out of the equation, and honestly? I don't know what the delay is truly about; but I have twenty-five hundred German mercenaries at my disposal and my traitorous Roman captains are under the sure assumption that I have less than one-third their number; they have been emboldened, some of them, by the re-acquisition of their lands and, what they believe to be, the retraction of King Louis' support of me. That was what Lady Carracciuola came to see me about, Lucrezia—she imparted the intelligence to me that night about the mercenaries, which was instrumental in helping me to form the strategy needed to convince them to come to my aid..."

"She was...a...a spy, Cesare?" Lucrezia asked him incredulously.

"Yes, my love."

"But also more than a spy..."

"Yes, my love."

"She went off with my husband on my wedding night, Cesare," she reminded him in an indignant huff.

Cesare smiled at his sister. "And her invitation to you to come visit her was genuine—and a message to me—that she holds us both in higher esteem than to commit such a transgression against you, Lucrezia."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"Because I know her...and have known her for some four years, now," he told her delicately.

An involuntary little gasp escaped her as she turned away from him, endeavoring to hide the crestfallen look upon her face. "She is...truly my rival then..."

"She is not, my love..." he took hold of her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake to force her eyes back upon him. "What I'm telling you now is not about that—you asked my what my plans are and I am telling you—and the Lady aided me in that endeavor, Lucrezia; she would be a friend to you, the same as she has been to me."

"I think not, brother—I am not equipped sufficiently to be such a friend to her as you are," she snapped at him.

"Stop it, Lucrezia! Stop this—do not judge her thus, I beg you..." he pleaded with her.

Lucrezia rolled her eyes as she tried hard to get the images of her brother and the red-haired beauty sharing themselves with each other out of her mind; she rose up from the bed and began to pace the floor. "And...and then what, Cesare? You dispense della Rovere to France; you acquire the keys to the kingdom—when...when father..." she found it difficult to form the words but struggled on, "when father leaves us—"

"But father has not left us, Lucrezia—not yet. I forge ahead; I stake my claim; I will be a fierce and terrible opponent to my enemies...a just ruler to my people...I _will_ unify this Italy..."

"But when he is gone, my love, there will only be another Pope to contend with—most likely a Borgia-hating one—then what?"

"della Rovere is our staunchest enemy—with him out of the way it will be easier to ensure that the next prelate who takes his seat upon the Papal throne will be a friend of Borgia, instead of foe...and by that time I will be powerful enough to be a force to contend with..." Cesare got out of the bed, went to his sister and stopped her agonized pace upon the floor by catching her up from behind, stilling her in his embrace. "The Sons of Rome are only that, my love; they are not the leaders of Rome; they spend too much of their time fighting amongst one another to be leaders—of Rome, the people or anything else, aside from their pricks laid out in contest upon a table for measure. I will unify this Italy," he repeated his vow to her, "I will deliver you..." he murmured into her ear, "from your loveless marriage; reunite you with Rodrigo and send you and your children anywhere that you wish to go...where you will be well-provided for and together, never to suffer a marriage again that you do not want for yourself..."

"Oh...Cesare...if only it could be so..." she sighed wistfully as she allowed herself momentary succor at the thought of it.

"You still doubt my abilities, sis?" he asked her sadly.

"Never your abilities, my love..."

"What then, Lucrezia?" he asked her, his voice full of anguish.

Lucrezia was ripped away from the brief respite of her dreams and came colliding back to reality; she knew that she needed to answer his question carefully; she gave him the only answer that she was able to—a truthful one. "Our enemies are legion, Cesare; as always, I fear their numbers against us."

"I will give you that, but—"

"My dear Micheletto—how is he, Cesare?"

Cesare was a little taken aback at her sudden change of conversation. "He is fine, my love."

"Good. My dear Micheletto, who loves us and watches out for us all..."

"Yes, that he does." Cesare smiled his confusion at her.

"He gave a king a fine bath in a pool of lamprey eels, once, you know—can he not manage the same for della Rovere?"

Cesare chuckled in spite of himself. "I will put in my request, sister."

"I hate to say it, but the hour is upon us where you must leave me, Cesare, before you run into mother and father in the hall..."

"You leave that worry to me, sis...I grew up here as well, remember? And what do you think windows are for, hmm?" he joked her. "No..." he took her hand and led her back to the bed, "the time is not now, my love; I will hold you in my arms and we will talk of pleasant things—are we not both to be reunited with our Giovanni this evening? Hmm? And I will see to it that an arrangement will be made for you to see Rodrigo, my love, as soon as possible, yes?" He took her chin in hand and gave her lips a kiss. "Yes?"

"Yes, my love."

They were back upon the bed and snuggled into each other.

"Now..."

"Now, what?"

"You reunite with your son tonight...return to Ferrara at your leisure—do you want your Alfonso d'Este dead before or after your return? I think before would be better, then you can just stay here..."

"Cesare, really, do be serious..."

"I am being serious, sis."

"Enough, brother—I can handle Alfonso—and Cardinal Bembo, as well—not another word about them, please?"

Cesare made to speak but Lucrezia pounced upon him and stilled his lips with her kiss.


	56. An Understanding

Sunrise was almost upon them and Cesare was up and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed facing his sister, reluctant to bid Lucrezia his farewell.

"You must get yourself some sleep now, my love..." he leaned down and gave her forehead a kiss.

"You cannot leave me with _that_ kiss, brother..."

"If I inflict any other upon you, my love, I'll not be able to leave at all..." he said softly as he smiled his assurance down at her.

"And will you be able to take your own rest, then?"

"These are my regular hours, typically, sis," he said as he stroked a stray lock of hair softly away from her eye, his gaze locked upon it as he twirled the curly spiral gently about his forefinger. "I stay up all night...meet with my captains in the morning, handle whatever necessary business it is that demands my attention...then leave it all to Micheletto, you see, as I retire to slumber around ten, or so; I rise before evening and start my day again..." Cesare pulled the spiral ever so gently and watched it spring away as he released it, then took a handful of Lucrezia's silky locks in hand and pushed them away to reveal her face fully to him. "I'll see father shortly and then go to bed—I'm fine."

"That's quite the schedule..." she said as she took hold of his free hand.

"It is more than adequate for me, sis, I promise you," he said as he looked deeply into her eyes.

They stared at each other a long while, their eyes full of longing.

"And now...I must go, hmm?" Cesare brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.

Lucrezia gave him a sad little nod.

He took hold of her forefinger by his teeth and gave it a playful bite. "Hmm? A smile is required of you now, my Lady."

Lucrezia gave him a genuine one.

"Good. Until this evening—mother will understand if you sleep late today—get your rest, yes?"

Lucrezia nodded at him.

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He gave her finger another little bite through a devilish smile of his own and then left her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah! Our esteemed _Gonfaloniere_! And good morning to you, Excellency!" came Rodrigo's robust greeting at his son as Cesare entered his father's private dining room.

"Holy Father. Cardinal Sforza." Cesare nodded at them both.

"Sit...sit, Cesare, and tell Us how it all goes, yes?"

Cesare took his seat at his father's dining table. "It goes well."

"We understand that da Vinci's war wagon has been completed?"

"Yes."

"We would certainly like to lay eyes upon it—We hear that it is most frightful."

"It is, Holy Father."

"Very good. And what news from your Captain last night?"

"Our illustrious malcontents move next on Pergola, Holiness; they are aware of eight hundred or so German mercenaries and only count less than half that number as possible sympathizers to my cause —they are sure that I will be beaten."

"And this assurance from?"

"Don Ugo di Cardona, who has been present during every congress. As usual there are still divisions from within."

"Divisions—yes, ever the truest state of all of their sorry affairs...who now?"

"Vitellozzo Vitelli."

"Ah...that does not surprise Us. And what are you up against, really, Cesare?"

"Hermes Bentivoglio has the most at his command—two hundred light horse and five hundred infantry; even with the addition of their other forces—and without King Louis' aid—they are no match for my...German surprise," Cesare said through self-satisfied grunt at his father.

"You won't even tell Us their number, eh Cesare?"

"I cannot risk it, Holy Father, not even here with you. No offense, Cardinal Sforza."

"None taken, Excellency." Ascanio leveled his familiar smirk at Cesare.

"della Rovere." The name issued forth from Rodrigo's mouth through a low growl and an angry sneer.

Cesare let out an involuntary chuckle as he thought back to Lucrezia's request for Micheletto to drown the man in a bath of eels and wished that he could he relay the joke to his father, but knew that he could not.

"Well? What is so blasted funny?"

Cesare comported himself to seriousness. "When I am done with the Sons of Rome you shall see della Rovere leave this Rome—again—seeking sure refuge in France."

"That's it?"

Cesare bristled noticeably at his father's ire. "That will have to do, Holy Father—for a time."

"Hmm..." Rodrigo grumbled

In his seat Ascanio's smile grew broader.

"Oh? And you find this amusing, as well?" Rodrigo blustered at his Vice-Cardinal.

"I find it a necessary evil that the man remains in the world of the living, Holiness. We might want to...leave it there...at the moment?"

"Hmm."

Cesare gave a look of concurrence at Ascanio and then his father.

"And so, then on to the Marches, eh, Cesare?"

"Yes, Holy Father—on to the Marches."

"Good...good. And you will away when?"

"In the morning, before sunup—I would like to spend some time with Lucrezia and Giovanni tonight."

"Of course. Well, nothing left to do at the moment other than to wait for the arrival of Our precious Giovanni, hmm? Have you talked to your sister at all, Cesare? What is her mood, do you know? She seemed most agitated last night..."

"Not really," Cesare lied. "She is anxious, of course, but she seemed surprisingly calm, I thought, Holy Father. I believe that she will...reconcile herself...as well as can be expected in such a situation; her arms about her son will help greatly; I do think a visit to Rodrigo should be arranged as soon as possible and—"

"And We disagree—to see him and say goodbye yet again? We simply think that would be more than torturous..."

"And to not see him at all? Ever again? He is a just a babe—"

"That is not something, as much as it pains Us to say it, that We can promise to bring to fruition...he is Rodrigo of _Naples_ , now, Cesare...his place is in Naples— _his_ place—not Lucrezia's."

"But, Holy Father—"

"Believe Us, Cesare, We are certain that We are right in this..." Rodrigo gave a frustrated pound of his fist upon the table.

"And I am certain that you are wrong!" Cesare hissed back at him, losing his inward battle with every passing second to restrain is evident rage.

"Holiness...Excellency—I shall excuse myself..." Ascanio said uncomfortably as he rose from his seat.

Both men were silent, their eyes locked furiously upon each other, barely aware that Ascanio had even spoken.

"We look to you, Cesare, as the fine example of the sacrifices made in the name of our children..."

"What?" The insult registered on Cesare's face and in his voice was unmistakable.

Even Ascanio slowed his pace as he made his way to the door, wondering what in the world Rodrigo was about to say next.

"You have not seen your Louise, have you not? And yet you go on with—"

Cesare rose violently from his chair. "You? You dare to speak to me of 'sacrifices' made in the name of the children? _You?_ Who has committed every sin under God, in the name of the—"

"Cesare..." Rodrigo's tone was a sure warning for his son to desist.

"Louise is not the issue here...do you think that because I did not birth her that I regret her any less? That I do not long to see her? This double-edged sword that you wield...so lightly—in the name of the children..." Cesare spat out in full disgust.

" _You_ —" Rodrigo rose slowly from his seat, his eyes squinted in anger at his son, "...did not want the wife, Cesare—you wanted the army! And you got it!"

"For you!"

"For yourself!"

"Are we not the same man, father?" Cesare's question was pure venom.

"Aargh!" Rodrigo wheeled away furiously from the sight of his son to another that fueled his ire just as much. "Ascanio—either take your curious seat in earnest or leave Us!"

Ascanio said nothing as he made haste away.

"You will not stand here and tell me, at this late date, that you still begrudge the manner in which I brought YOU home the arms you told ME to go forth and secure. You will not stand here and hold up my predicament with Louise against that which Lucrezia finds herself in regarding Rodrigo, for I assure you, that if I was not involved in this campaign—FOR US BOTH—I would have been back to France to see my child and hold her in my arms, at least once.

"There is a certain difference regarding Louise and Rodrigo: I at least have the assurance that Louise—and Charlotte, as well—are safe—safer away from me than with me; it is the only balm that soothes as I think of a child of mine that I know not. Lucrezia does not have that assurance where Rodrigo is concerned..."

"Gioffre will return to Naples—"

"Sancia is ill—has been ill for some time now and is not getting better, according to Gioffre...what happens if she dies? Who will see to Rodrigo of Naples then, hmm? Gioffre would have no claim over him or his affairs, nor Lucrezia—who would truly protect the boy?"

"But Sancia is _alive_ , Cesare...that is not Gioffre's issue at present."

" _At present_..." Cesare said through an indignant guffaw. "Is that enough to ease the concerns of the mother of a helpless babe? That she is never to see again? One trip, father—one journey, to see her son and say her goodbye properly—she will feel ambushed in this endeavor, otherwise."

"And We tell you that it cannot be helped! Cesare! Please do not fight Us on this! If it could be any other way We would have it be so!"

All that Cesare could think of at that moment was the fact that Lucrezia already knew; that he had promised to arrange for her to see Rodrigo; of how his father's pronouncement meant yet another heartbreak for her. She would be angry at him. He should never have promised such a thing, he realized regretfully, but it had simply been unimaginable to him that his father would not agree to it. He would have to go behind his father's back, that's all there was to that.

"Cesare?"

"I've been up all night—this evening, then, Holy Father," he said through gritted teeth and left.

The loud slam of the door punctuated Cesare's angry departure; Rodrigo took a lonely seat at his table; he put his fingertips to his throbbing temples and gave a heavy sigh of utter frustration, dreading the evening that loomed before him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodrigo and Cesare arrived at Vannozza's palazzo an hour before sundown. Their greetings to the two women had been warm and genuine enough, but both Vannozza and Lucrezia noticed immediately the tension between father and son, who sat at the dining table not speaking to one another. They exchanged curious glances at each other but said nothing nor asked either of their two men what their trouble was.

"Father? Won't you please tell me now what it is that—"

"Soon, darling daughter...any moment, really, We assure you," came his somewhat nervous reply.

Lucrezia paced about the floor, inwardly rehearsing the look of surprise she would give her father at the news she already knew, and labored mightily to quell her own excitement at being reunited with her son between her furtive glances at her sullen, silent brother. More moments ticked by for the strained group when, finally, one of Vannozza's maids came into the dining room.

"Your Holiness...my Lady—your party is here..."

"What? What party?" Vannozza gave her confused look at Rodrigo.

"Yes, yes—bring them up, dear girl..." Rodrigo instructed her.

"Thank you, Benedetta—yes...bring them straight up." The girl disappeared. "Rodrigo?"

Seconds later Miracella was being ushered in with Giovanni in her arms; at that moment Lucrezia did not have to wonder how to pretend a thing as she rushed over joyously to them both.

"Oh! Rodrigo—you sly dog!" Vannozza cried out as she went to him and then gave him a kiss upon his cheek; she turned to her son next. "And you knew about this, of course..." she happily accused him.

Cesare only nodded and received her happy kiss, as well. The three of them watched the tear-filled reunion before them.

"My Lady—it is so good to see you again..."

"Thank you, my love; all of this time—it has been the only saving grace of this separation, to know that my babies were in your loving care, Miracella—I am indebted to you forever. Giovanni...my love...I have missed you so..."

Giovanni, ensconced in her embrace then, was being smothered with kisses.

"You know that it has been my loving pleasure..."

"We shall talk more, my love, after I learn from His Holiness—"

"Say no more, my Lady, I understand," Miracella reassured her.

"Where is Rodrigo?" asked Vannozza then.

"Uh...that is what We must speak to you about—Lucrezia?"

"Yes, Holy Father—where is Rodrigo?" Lucrezia turned back to Miracella.

"I—" the girl began nervously.

"Vannozza," Rodrigo boldly interrupted Miracella, "please have your girl show Miracella to—"

"Of course—Benedetta—show Miracella to her accommodations—the room next to mine is available...and let me know how many others there are."

"Yes ma'am..." the girl curtsied at her and led Miracella away.

"Rodrigo? What's going on? Where is the baby?"

"Both of you—sit down, please...please."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Rodrigo was done with his short explanation Vannozza erupted into immediate tears.

"And you could not tell ME? You had had to impart this vile news in such a manner? I would have softened this blow, sir, for our daughter deserves better than this!" she railed at him. Giovanni began to cry at his grandmother's outburst.

"Vannozza, please, We know that this is upsetting..." Rodrigo tried to calm her down.

"And _you_..." she leveled her anger at her son then. "You know that you could have told me...Lucrezia..." she turned to her daughter, "I am...so...sorry about this..."

"Mother, this does not serve either you or me—please calm yourself, you have worked yourself up into such a state and I fear for your very health," Lucrezia pleaded at her.

"And if I drop dead from sure rage my blood will be on your hands," she hissed at Rodrigo.

"Vannozza, please..." Rodrigo implored her in great anguish, "We feel badly enough..."

"Oh..." she shook her head slowly at him, "no you don't...give me this child, Lucrezia—when you are done with this man you come to my room and retrieve him—I'll be waiting." Vannozza gathered Giovanni gingerly from his mother's arms and stormed out of the room.

Rodrigo looked helplessly after his furious love then turned to Lucrezia. "Please tell us that you understand, Lucrezia?" he begged his daughter.

"I understand, Holy Father, I do. I would like to see him, of course—please tell me that _you_ understand."

The whole time during his mother's outburst Cesare had remained in his seat, dour, quiet—waiting. It was the horrid moment then, that he had been waiting for, where his sister's cool act would come to an end and her true rage would be inflicted at him and his father in equal measure.

"We do understand, Lucrezia, but that is a thing that We cannot oblige you."

Her sudden laughter, incredulous and unchecked, startled both men. "I...I did not just hear that..." she managed at last.

"You did. We have had the most maddening and heartbreaking argument with your brother this very day about this, Lucrezia, and We cannot go through it again. You speak to Cesare, We are aggrieved enough already—whether you choose to believe it or not, We _are_ human and this pains Our heart, as well, more than words may ever express." As tears came to his eyes his voice left him entirely, strangled by words choking off the breath in his tight, dry throat; words that were truly empathetic yet more than impotent, and he rushed away from them both, out of the room and the very palazzo.

Lucrezia turned to her brother and then sat heavily in a seat facing him; she crossed her arms about her chest and waited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well." It was all that she could say when Cesare was done recounting his conversation with their father to her.

"Lucrezia..."

"I am going to retrieve my Giovanni, now." She rose up from her seat wearily.

"May I come to you both tonight? I so wanted to spend some time with him, for I—"

"Of course—let me guess—you're leaving tomorrow," she chuckled her exasperation at him.

"Yes."

"Well then, come with me now to retrieve him, mother will surely understand."

Cesare nodded sadly as he followed her to their mother's suite.

"I've fed him, Lucrezia and his clout is fresh; if your father had only told me I would have had a crib ready for him," Vannozza complained when the siblings came for Giovanni. "I'm having your old one installed in your room as we speak, my love—Cesare please do inspect it and make sure that it is sound?"

"Yes, mother."

"I shall be there shortly with fresh linens."

Vannozza came with the promised linens and sat with them a while as they all enjoyed reacquainting themselves with Giovanni. After a time she rose from her seat, went to Giovanni and gave the tired boy a kiss to the top of his head. "I shall leave you now, for I know you have things to discuss."

"Thank you, mother."

"Say goodbye to me now then, mother, for I leave early in the morning to return to Imola."

"Oh? So soon..."

"Yes. I had to see Lucrezia and Giovanni."

"Of course. Godspeed to you, my love. I'm...I'm sorry about my outburst earlier, Cesare, I do not fault you at all..."

"It's alright, mother. I love you."

"And I love you. Be safe, Cesare, you will ever be in my heart and prayers."

"Thank you."

"Goodnight to you both." She gave him a kiss and a strong hug, blew a kiss at Lucrezia and then left them.

"He's almost out," Cesare noted in a whisper of his exhausted little nephew, who was resting in his mother's lap quietly, losing his valiant battle with sleep.

Lucrezia nodded her head and began to rock the boy ever so gently; she excused herself with another silent nod at him and left to put the boy in his crib.

"Well, he may actually sleep through the whole of the night," she said when she came back to her brother.

"Lucrezia, I'm sorry about—"

"No, really, Cesare, there's nothing else to say."

"I will find a way for you to see Rodrigo—I will."

"The only thing that I can do now is send my prayers to God for his safety and try not to lose my complete wits," she smiled wanly at him.

"How much longer will you stay in Rome?"

"Well, it's a fine time to think of it now, but I shall stay at least until I know whether our night together...has produced another child or not."

"What?"

"I would just like to be sure either way before I return to Ferrara; my nerves are frazzled enough already; to have that concern and be involved in the constant emotional battle that makes up my relationship with Alfonso...that would be much for me to handle, I'd hazard to say."

Cesare was speechless at the thought of her possibly being with child again.

Lucrezia chuckled at him. "Do not look so stricken, brother; I relish every moment that we were granted and I regret nothing—I would welcome, gladly, such a development should it happen to be the case. Gladly."

"But the problem that it would cause for you with Alfonso..."

"There would be no problem, Cesare—I would simply pass the child off as his..."

"Stop this, Lucrezia...you would do no such thing..."

"Oh, Cesare—yes I would..."

"But how?"

"How else, brother? I cannot replace one child with another, nor would I ever endeavor to try and do such thing, but if I am with child—and indisputably yours—I would most assuredly return to Ferrara and bed my husband, of course..."

"Lucrezia..."

"It would be difficult, for he loathes me—and will more so because we have been here together—but I don't care; I would drug him, if I had to; accuse him of making good, finally, on his husbandly threats—"

"Lucrezia, stop it—you speak madness now—he would see right through that..."

"I don't care, I tell you—I would bring it to sure fruition, brother; I would send my prayers to God in thanks every day for the rest of my life, even as I would pray to be reunited again someday with my precious Rodrigo; and then I would bed him one last time, and seal our bargain by providing him his true heir. With my children I could be a happy woman, at last—as happy as I could be without you, anyway."

"There are many problems with your plan, my love, I am sorry to say..."

"Whatever do you mean, Cesare?"

"You might have to bed your husband many times before you find yourself pregnant again; and what if his first child is a girl? You would have to have at him again so as to give him a son, hmm?"

"I appear to be good at breeding sons, Cesare..."

"You know what I'm getting at, sis."

"I will give him his precious son, Cesare, at whichever point God chooses to make it so, and then I will be done with him; I will be more than content in my role as Duchess of Ferrara and blessedly happy to have my children with me, even if I only ever get to see my Rodrigo once before I die; should God ever allow me your tender touch again I would be ecstatic. But my most selfish desire and joy, whether I ever have you again or not, will be complete when you have attained your success as the ruler of a unified Italy and are the master of all of your own and truest desires, my love."

"My truest desire is you..."

"Cesare, even I know that there is more to your destiny than me—I want that for you with my whole heart."

"I know that you do, my love, and I want the same for you."

"Do not look so worried, Cesare, I'm only thinking ahead, that's all; I must have a plan, either way, and I do."

"As do I. I shall get word back to you soon, for I believe I know the perfect way to engineer a reunion with your baby..."

"Do not fan the flames of false hope at me, my love, I've enough—we've both enough to contend with already, yes?"

"No..." his smile at her was as conspiratorial as it was sweet, "hear me out..."


	57. War Wagon

"How can you be so sure that this will work, Cesare? You haven't even spoken to—"

"I don't need to, my love—that one's aid is assured—rest your faith in us both..."

Nestled in his embrace as they sat atop her bed, Lucrezia gave a heavy sigh at her brother then looked forlornly away toward a window. "I have detained you long enough...surely you need to go and get some kind of rest before you leave in the morning..." Lucrezia made to extricate herself from his embrace but Cesare held her fast.

"Do I look like I am ready to leave you, sister?"

Lucrezia, lost in so many worrisome thoughts, did not answer her brother.

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia...come now, none of that..." Cesare took gentle hold of her chin and forced her gaze back upon him. "Lucrezia, rest your faith in us both," he pleaded at her, "it will work." He hugged her to him again. "Now, we must discuss a code words—for when the time comes that our plan shall be put into action and when you must get word to me about your condition."

"Oh...really? Code words, brother?"

"Of course. You must know that all of my most important correspondences are handled in such a manner—what I went through regarding my dispatches with Machiavelli...I could tell you stories, if I had more time..." he chuckled above her. "Trust me when I tell you that it is a necessary thing."

"Yes, I can see how that would be."

"'War Wagon'."

"'War Wagon'? What?"

"My word, if you are with child..." Cesare suggested seriously.

Lucrezia chuckled at him then. "Why?"

"Because..." he gave a her a loving kiss to the top of her head, "if you are I'll know to come back with one so that I may deal with your husband properly..."

"Oh, Cesare, really...be serious..."

"I assure you that I am, my Lady..." he smiled at her as he tweaked her nose gently.

"How about, simply, 'yes' or 'no'?"

"Because doing such a thing lacks...imagination, hmm?"

"Cesare, really..." she began as she rose from his embrace to face him.

"Alright, a true—and less facetious compromise, then—I pick the word for 'yes', and you for 'no'—my word is..." He gave it a long thought as his sister waited with an intrigued smile on her face. "'Sappho'—your favorite poet."

Lucrezia smiled at him. "How very lovely of you, brother, to remember...yes, I like that. My word is...a name—'Colomba da Rieti'."

"Of Perugia?"

"The one and only."

"What made you think of her?"

"Oh...I heard a little snippet of gossip about her in mother's kitchen the other day; it seems there is still talk going on about her here in Rome, that she and I are rival sorceresses, or some such nonsense."

"Well, that should greatly confound prying eyes."

"Yes, I think so."

"Alright—your visit to Rodrigo will be arranged within the month; when the plan is ready to be put into action you will receive the word from me..."

"And the word will be?"

"'War Wagon'."

Lucrezia chuckled at him. "Again? Can you think of nothing else, brother?"

"Ah, but you should see the word as it is expressed on da Vinci's sketch pad, sis! Every incarnation is a horror and a masterpiece, even the ones he considers imperfections and tosses into the fire..." he beamed a smile at her. "And you shall—I will ask him for one of his incomplete sketches and send it to you; it shall serve two purposes: to notify you that you will be ready to be received, and as a ruse if other eyes should happen to look upon it." Cesare's hearty guffaw gave way to another burst of laughter.

"You act as if you fully expect that all of our correspondences will be breached, brother."

Cesare's laughter subsided but the grin on his face grew wider. "They will be. Why do you think I have never written to you from the field before? And after what has been going on since just before my trip to Elba with father—yes, sis, our missives will be intercepted and studied before they reach their intended destinations. And when I hear from you next you will have news for me, yes?"

"Yes, my love."

As Cesare leaned in to give her his final kiss goodbye they heard a knock upon her door, then the far-off voice of their mother.

"Lucrezia? Are you still up?'

Their passionate kiss became feverish and hurried before they reluctantly scrambled off and away from Lucrezia's bed.

"Come in..." Lucrezia called out after she and her brother rushed to the small anteroom of her suite and took their seats on her settee.

"Lucrezia...oh!"

"Mother."

"I thought you were gone already, Cesare..." Vannozza smiled her surprise at them both.

"I will be soon...just spending a few last hours with sis and Giovanni, mother..."

"It's my fault that he's been so long, mother—Cesare has spent a good deal of this time assuaging my upset over Rodrigo, I'm afraid...I've come to my senses enough to realize that he must get some rest tonight, he was just leaving..."

"Oh, you don't have to explain to me, I thought as much. Bless you, Cesare." Vannozza went to her son with outstretched arms and he rose up to receive her.

"Of course, mother. Well, I'm off to bed then..." Cesare looked awkwardly back at his sister.

"Good night, brother. And thank you for your loving counsel. Godspeed to you."

Cesare gave her a nod and then one at his mother when he noticed a letter in her hand; Lucrezia noticed it at the same moment.

"What is it that you have there, mother? Is that for me?" Cesare heard his sister ask as he made the short steps to her door.

"It's from Alfonso—it came not ten minutes ago..."

His mother's words stopped Cesare's steps cold.

"What on God's earth now..." Lucrezia sniffed indignantly.

"Well, I imagine that it is a request for you to come home..."

"I _am_ home...and I've not even been here three good days..."

"Yes, but you've only been a new bride just over three good months—you have duties, Lucrezia, to your new husband and your duchy..." Vannozza gently reminded her.

"Oh, so then you've read it already," Lucrezia said in a huff.

"I have not—nor do I need to," Vannozza reprimanded her daughter sharply as she thrust the unopened parchment at her. Both women became aware suddenly that Cesare was still in the room. "I thought that you were off to bed," Vannozza directed her ire at her son then.

"I...I..." he stammered, as he managed to quell his own rising anger at Alfonso's intrusion so early into his sister's visit back home; the look of irritation on Lucrezia's face mirrored his own.

"Off to bed with you, Cesare," his mother ordered him firmly.

Cesare dared to stand his ground. "I think that we should hear what he has to say."

It was Vannozza's irritated countenance that visited both of her children then. "I am only the messenger—that missive is neither for your ears or mine," she directed sternly at her son. "Good night, Lucrezia."

"Good night, mother."

Vannozza walked over to the door, held it open wide and waited for her son. "Well?"

Cesare gave a nod at his sister and then left her as his mother closed the door firmly behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Lucrezia slept as long as Giovanni allowed her, which was blessedly well into the late morning; even though Cesare was long gone her spirit had been greatly lifted by his loving plan to see her reunited with her youngest babe. She came around fully to the beginning of her day as she heard Giovanni's cry to have his toilet and hunger addressed and saw the unopened parchment that she had thrown to the floor as soon as her mother and brother had left her. She wanted truly to feed it to the fire in the hearth but knew that she must read it; and read it, she would—when she was good and ready.

Later that afternoon, while Giovanni frolicked in the garden with his grandmother on his new hobby horse of fine Ceylon cedar with a chestnut mane and leather and gold reins, gifted to him by his uncle, she met with Miracella in the dining hall.

"Sit, Miracella, and tell me how you are, yes?"

"Oh, my Lady, I am fine, really..."

The women talked for quite some time as they caught each other up on their long months apart.

"I'm so sorry that things have turned out as they have...Rodrigo certainly must receive his father's inheritance and I know it, but somehow I had the expectation that he would receive his titles and be with me. Foolish, I know..." a tear came to her eye. "Oh...I'm sorry, my love...I thought that I was done with these..." she wiped furiously at the corners of her eyes with a ready kerchief.

"Oh, my Lady, my heart aches for you..."

"No, I must endure. You have your release from me, Miracella—I know that you do not wish to go to Naples and I simply cannot ask you..."

"You do not have to, my Lady—as long as Dante and I are free to marry and go together, I see no reason not to; our babe has had upheaval enough—to have my familiar face taken away from him? Even I cannot abide that."

"Oh, Miracella, you are heaven sent, my love..."

"Do not trouble yourself another moment on that account, my—"

"After all of this time— _Lucrezia_ , to you, yes?" she hugged the woman to her bosom.

"Oh, yes."

"And I would see you married right away, before you leave Rome again—does that suit?"

"Oh, my Lady! Yes, truly!"

"Good. You talk to Dante and then give me the word, my love, and I shall arrange a most wonderful wedding for you both, as soon as you wish."

"Oh, Lucrezia..." With tears in her eyes Miracella jumped up from her seat, wrapped her loving arms around Lucrezia and gave her a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you so much..."

"It's the least that I can do. Are you sure that Dante has no qualms about going to Naples?"

"We have discussed it, Lucrezia—he is concerned about Rodrigo, as well."

"Oh, my love..." tears were welling up in Lucrezia's eyes again and she struggled to compose herself.

"Miracella...I have told you that His Holiness will not allow me to see Rodrigo, but I will also tell you, plainly, that a plan is being put into motion directly opposing that edict; what I am about to ask you is not a condition to your offer to remain as the most trusted caregiver to my son—whether your answer may be yes or no to my next question, I still expect to plan a wedding and host a most wondrous banquet feast in your honor and continue to thank God in heaven that my little Rodrigo is blessed to have you in his life."

"Yes, Lucrezia?"

"I hate to even ask...but I must..."

"Ask of me anything, Lucrezia..." Miracella implored her.

Lucrezia laid out the plan to her friend, fully expecting the woman to respectfully, but firmly, decline. Miracella's response was immediate.

"Oh, Lucrezia, do not give it another thought—I will most certainly help you."


	58. Report, Please

By dinner time on Lucrezia's third evening home, Vannozza's curiosity over the contents of her daughter's letter from the Duke had gotten the better of her; under a steady—almost hostile—gaze she managed to hold her tongue as they sat across from each other at the dining table while dinner was being served.

Lucrezia ignored her mother, concentrating then on making her selections from the server, and next arranging a napkin in her lap; after a heavy sigh and a hard roll of her eyes she settled an irritated gaze upon her mother. "Will you say grace, or shall I?"

"Thank you, Heavenly Father for this meal we are about to partake of, in the name of Our Lord, Jesus Christ, Amen," Vannozza snapped out her blessing for them both.

"Simply ask it, mother, whatever your question may be."

"What is going on, Lucrezia? I am truly happy to have you here, but you've said not one word about your plans to return home—tongues are wagging all about Rome regarding your presence here so soon after your wedding—what on God's earth is—"

"And again I say to you—I _am_ home. And what do I care about the wagging tongues of Rome?" Lucrezia sliced into her serving of roast duck and took her first bite.

"Alright then, damn the masses—"

"The 'masses', mother? Really?"

Vannozza ignored Lucrezia's scoff at her. "What did—"

"The duck is marvelous, mother," Lucrezia cut her mother off through an appreciative nod of her head, refusing still to look at her.

"Damn the duck! What did Alfonso have to say?"

Lucrezia put her fork down at her mother's angry outburst and glared at her stonily. " _'This missive is not for our ears'_ I believe you said?" she reminded her mother through a tilt of her head.

"Do not toy with me, girl," Vannozza warned her daughter.

Lucrezia went back to her plate and delicately loaded her fork with another morsel of duck. "Well, mother, it is no conspiracy against you; I fully plan to reveal the contents of his letter—and would have done so by now, surely—if I had read it—which I have not, yet."

"Have...not...read it yet? Lucrezia, _whaat_ is going on with the two of you?"

Lucrezia put her fork down, wishing in earnest that she could reveal the particulars of her heartbreak over the true state of affairs between herself and her husband, knowing that she could never actually do so. "It is only a matter of acclimation, mother; and I am a woman grown, free to travel about this Italy as I wish, husband or no husband." _Might as well broach that now, for I've a trip planned soon that will most certainly upset you..._

"Well...that may be true, Lucrezia, but it does not look good. And while you may be inclined to keep your discretion with me, I can assure you that you will not be able to do the same with your father—he is coming here tonight to speak with you."

"Of course he is," she sighed as she pushed her plate away. "Well, then...I suppose that I should go and read my husband's letter, so that I may give my detailed—and much-awaited—report to you both." She rose from the table and left her mother to do just that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, as she sat in her room playing with Giovanni, there came a knock upon her door.

"Lucrezia?"

It was her father's bold, authoritative voice booming at her.

She bristled at his intrusion even though he was expected. "Come in..." she called back; her parents marched in, Rodrigo, of course, leading the way.

"Lucrezia, your mother has voiced a great concern to Us this day—"

"And good evening to _you_ , Holy Father..." she responded icily as she rose up from the pallet she'd been sharing with her son.

"No, Lucrezia—We shall not suffer this insolence from you a moment longer—"

" _Nonno!_ " Giovanni exclaimed gleefully; everyone's attention was on him as he scrambled up and ran to his grandfather.

"Oh, Giovanni...yes precious one...hello, there..." he cooed down at the boy, his bluster interrupted by his grandson, who, at that moment, had his arms wrapped about his grandfather's legs in a possessive embrace. "Yes, beautiful boy..." he smiled at Giovanni as he scooped him up into his arms. " _Nonno_ loves you so much, but must talk to mama now, hmm?" Rodrigo gave him a kiss to the cheek and then looked to Vannozza, beseeching her silently to take the boy in hand.

"Come, my love," Vannozza whispered at him as she gathered him into her arms, "and show _Nonna_ your new top..." she pointed at the abandoned toy on the pallet, another fine gift from his uncle Cesare. From the corner of her eye she watched Lucrezia and her father squared off with one another as she settled herself on the floor with her grandson.

"Why have you not made plans to return to Ferrara, Lucrezia? We understand that you've had word from your husband—surely he is asking the same?"

Lucrezia crossed her arms and stared her father down.

"Well?"

"His letter states what any letter would from husband to his wife under such a circumstance."

"And what circumstance is that?"

"I told him my suspicions regarding your need to see me—he simply inquires as to how it all goes, Holy Father."

"And that's it? Why do We not believe you? We wish to see his letter..."

Lucrezia gave an indignant harrumph. "Am I allowed no privacy? Here? In my own home?"

"Your home is _Ferrara_ now, Lucrezia..." Rodrigo sighed exasperatedly at her.

"That may be...but my husband gave me his blessing for this trip, and placed no restrictions on my time in so doing. You would do well, Holy Father, to do the same."

"Oh, really?" Rodrigo managed to contain his rage but the grimace on his face and single step toward his daughter were both menacing. "We would desire to see proof of that."

"Well, you would have found it rather boring, Holy Father; Alfonso is not a man given to overt demonstrations of affection—his letter was quite businesslike and short."

From the pallet on the floor Vannozza cast her open and unbelieving gaze at her daughter; she thought back to Alfonso's manner during his meeting with Cesare and Rodrigo at their betrothal, and his most-enamored behavior the night before the wedding, but she held her tongue.

"Just a moment—'would' have found it boring, you said?"

"Yes, Holy Father—would have—the letter has been committed to the fire in the hearth—believe me when I tell you that his tone and concern were pragmatic as ever...you see, we have settled well, these past three months, into the particulars of our alliance."

Rodrigo cast a confounded look at Vannozza and then back at his daughter.

"Do not worry, Holy Father, I shall gladly submit my response to him for your review—tonight, in fact, after Giovanni has been put to bed and I have written it. I will tell my husband what I am telling you—that I am allowed this respite, for I have been without my son for quite some time and it is my desire to spend whatever time I deem necessary to reacquaint him to me—before I spirit him away to a court filled with new and abundant strangers...Holy Father. In light of that which I suffer over my Rodrigo, it is the least that should be accorded me now, yes?"

Rodrigo gave his daughter a look of pure despair as his tongue refused to assist him in argument.

Vannozza, dividing her attention equally between her grandson and the tense situation between Rodrigo and her daughter, was not so easily placated; still she held her tongue, knowing that one would get nowhere with Lucrezia when she was in such a state.

"Better yet, sit and play with your grandson, Holy Father, and I will draft the letter to my husband now." Lucrezia gathered her seal from her desk, then went to Giovanni, bent down, and gave a kiss to the top of his forehead. "Mother, may I trouble you for the use of your office?" Without waiting for a reply she left the outdone pair to their babysitting duty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Captain."

"Excellency."

Cesare was back in Imola, pleased to find Micheletto in conference with Raffaele dei Pazzi and Galeotto Pallavicini, whom he had left in Rimini in charge of the Germans.

"Good evening, my Lord—welcome back," dei Pazzi greeted him.

"Excellency," Pallavicini bowed his head at him.

"Good evening to you both. Would you excuse us a moment?"

"Of course, my Lord..." said Pallavicini and the two men left them.

Cesare went to his friend and gave him a warm pat upon his back. "My sister sends her loving regard to you."

"She is well, I hope."

"She is as well as can be expected."

"Rodrigo, of course."

"Yes. And then there is the matter of Alfonso."

"So, the rumors of discontent between them are true..."

"Yes, your sources were correct, she more than confirmed it."

"I am sorry, Cesare."

"As am I...but she is determined to carry on. We shall discuss more about that presently—any new developments in my short time away?"

"Many—the Orsini have become as weak-kneed as Vitelli—very much a product of Hermes Bentivoglio's laughable plan to try and use Ercole d'Este as a means to begin secret negotiations with you—he remains undeterred in his opinion that he can kill you, whether France releases more arms to you or not—"

"Ah, yes..." Cesare grunted, "he aches to employ his useless nine thousand foot soldiers, even though Florence trusts none of them...Vitelli and the Orsini, most assuredly, or the rest of that ill-advised and traitorous league..."

"And rightly so, as the fools would stand to cause sure war against an ally of France—you should be expecting a letter from the Florentines in the morning, promising to enter into no endeavors to move against you. In the meantime, da Vinci has designed new catapults and cannon—most magnificent, indeed."

"Ah!" Cesare's guffaw at that news was full of unbridled delight, "Excellent—and I must speak to him today..."

"Another bit of good news—Gasparo Sanseverino has arrived..."

A broad smile grew on Cesare's face. "Acquaint him with da Vinci's war wagon and place him in command of the horse..."

"Yes, immediately...Ranieri della Sassetta and Francesco de Luna will arrive tomorrow, Lodovico Pico della Mirandola the day after them..."

"With the extra Romagnuoli troops we have now raised with the help of our new captains, and our fine German mercenaries, we now have—"

"Six thousand men-at-arms, my Lord, mastering their drills magnificently."

"Excellent. Pandolfo Petrucci?"

"Still wishes to see you; Giulio Orsini sets out to see His Holiness, as we speak."

"I barely missed him on the road then, eh?" Cesare gave a snort of disgust. "Very well, I shall meet with Petrucci after our other three captains arrive. Now I must employ your aid in another matter—I need two of your best men to dispatch a letter to this one..." Cesare produced a sealed parchment from a pouch inside of his cloak and held it out to his friend; Micheletto took it in hand and, upon seeing the name upon it, raised an eyebrow; the smirk on Cesare's face then was an amused one. "Hear me out, brother..."


	59. The Necessary Preparations

"I have set the necessary preparations to action, Excellency..."

"Good, and thank you, brother."

"What is it?" Micheletto asked upon seeing the slight frown that had formed on Cesare's face.

"Ah..." he grunted loudly, "I am just wondering after Lucrezia..."

"Her letter from Alfonso..."

"Yes..."

"If it was a matter that required your attention she would have made it known by now, I'd hazard to say."

"Yes, I'm sure that you are right..." Cesare said absently as he opened the portfolio on the desk before him.

Cesare and Micheletto had just come back from a meeting with Leonardo da Vinci and were looking over Leonardo's latest, and various, crossbow designs.

"Is there no end to his imagination—one magnificent specimen after the other...and you and Machiavelli had so little faith in his ability..."

"Never in his ability, Excellency, but I am surprised that he has lasted this long."

Cesare gave an amused grunt at his friend as he flipped through the sketches until he found the one he had truly been seeking—the one that he would send to his sister when the time came for her to reunite with her baby. "For you, brother, to hold until time for it to be sent out for delivery."

Micheletto nodded as he took it. "Tension between France and Spain continues to escalate—after several very heated dispatches between them, the French Viceroy and the Spanish Captain conducted a a very private meeting that became a very public spectacle—sure murder was only narrowly avoided."

Cesare laughed heartily. "The Treaty of Grenada is causing more problems than it sought to resolve—no surprise there."

"No."

"Very well; Orsini shall return eventually with news of his agreement with His Holiness, by which time our new Captains will be firmly in place—we will be able to call this sorry attempt at revolt over." Finally Cesare opened his missive from Florence; Micheletto waited to hear its contents patiently. "Ah..."

Micheletto raised a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

"Florence is sending Machiavelli to respond officially as to their position over the matter of our rebel captains and the re-acquisition of their lands in Urbino, Forssombrone, Cagli and Aggobbio."

"What? A letter was not enough?"

"Apparently not." Cesare smiled broadly at him. "Well...that shall be fun—he arrives tomorrow morning. It _is_ a beautiful day—I find that I even have an appetite, this fine morning—let us go and break fast together, brother, yes?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At that moment, Lucrezia was in a meeting with her father in his apartment at Castel Sant'Angelo.

"Good morning, Holy Father."

"Ah! Our darling daughter!" Rodrigo held his arms wide open and received his wary daughter with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

"Forgive me, Holy Father, if I seem surprised at your demeanor this morning, especially after last night..."

Rodrigo had, indeed, been more than just a little furious at his daughter's obstinance the evening prior over her refusal to return to her husband; in light of the fact that her reasons for not doing so had actually been sound, he decided that it was best not to fight her will. She had sent her short response back to her husband, with her father's full blessing, stating that she would stay in Rome as long as she saw fit to do so; to Rodrigo she promised to limit her stay to no longer than two months.

"Dear girl, We do agree that this time here with your son requires absolutely no argument."

"Well, I am quite happy that you truly feel that way, Holy Father, it is more than a relief."

"Are you... _sure_...that you have...nothing else? That you would like to discuss with Us regarding your husband, Lucrezia?" he asked her delicately.

_I wish that I could..._ "No, Holy Father." Her smile was a sweet one, but her tone was resolute.

"Very well, lovely one. Have a seat—We must discuss some other issues with you."

"And I, with you."

They sat down on his divan and faced each other. "Please—We would hear you first."

"As you know, Miracella has graciously elected to stay in my employ and accompany our dear Rodrigo to Naples."

"Yes, bless her." Rodrigo smiled at her.

"Yes, indeed."

"She is prepared to leave, then?"

"Well, Holy Father, there is this: before I came back from Nepi, it was my promise to release Miracella to her own life and to pay for her wedding to my former coachman, Dante Pileggio. This, of course, was before I knew of Rodrigo's fate. It is still my wish to do so, and before they depart to Naples, so that they may be properly bonded in their happiness upon their arrival there."

"Well, of course, that is most lovingly gracious of you, but Rodrigo is set to depart by the week's end..."

"Then I am prepared to marry them today and send them back to Nepi immediately, to escort him."

"Well...today, you say?" Rodrigo blustered, as he wondered genuinely that such a thing could be done.

"Yes, Holy Father."

'Well, We suppose that is no problem...you are prepared to actually arrange such a thing so quickly?"

"I am, and I would be most honored if you would officiate and attend their wedding banquet, for Miracella is as close to my bosom as our own and very dear La Bella."

Rodrigo could see that Lucrezia was steeling herself against the possibility that he would decline her humble and most respectful request; his heart went out to her completely.

"Daughter—do calm yourself—We are most honored that you have asked it of Us, and will do so happily," he smiled warmly at her. "Come to Us, hmm?"

"Thank you, father..." she whispered at him as they embraced, "this means everything to me, as you surely must know."

"Why, of course..." he released her and looked deeply into her misty eyes. "Let Us dry these up, hmm?"

He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and dabbed gently at the tears in the corners of her eyes. "You just tell Us when We are to be ready and the rest of this day will be devoted to Our family alone."

"Thank you, Holy Father. What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Governance, dear Lucrezia."

She looked her question at him.

"We have business away from Rome to see to very soon—next week, in fact; you did such an excellent job when you served as proxy during Our travel away with the army—you are here and We find that We have need of you...if you are agreeable."

"Oh, Holy Father! Yes, I am most agreeable."

"Thank you, dear daughter; Cesare is getting ever closer to his goal and with him away from Rome, it is ever more dangerous to leave Our throne unattended—with you in it We may rest easy."

"That you may, Holy Father." Lucrezia gave him her reassuring hug.

"After the wedding We should like to brief you on the matters at hand, for you must be informed fully, and then We may all enjoy the banquet. The morning that you see your lady off to Nepi We shall need you to report to the Vatican straight away, yes?"

"Yes, Holy Father."

"Very well—We have a busy day ahead of Us—let Us get to it!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, congratulations to you, my love, your father is a shrewd one."

Lucrezia was in her mother's kitchen helping Vannozza see to the meal preparations. It had been decided that the couple would be married at the Vatican, and pursuant to Miracella's adamant wish, carry the banquet festivities back to the safe—and private—confines of Vannozza's palazzo.

"Whatever do you mean, mother? Surely you are not implying that father has made up some excuse for a trip away to legitimize my time here."

"Well...yes and no, my love; I know that he has legitimate business away, but to install you again upon the chair of Saint Peter's will surely cause the most salacious speculations about you at present to come to an end; it also solves the problem of your husband having any further complaint about your time here, because contrary to what you've intimated to us, I know that he cannot be happy about your ill-timed departure."

Lucrezia gave a sidelong look at her mother.

"For the last time, I did not read your missive, Lucrezia, but that look upon your face only corroborates my suspicions."

"Well, it is of no consequence now, is it mother? And I would like to concentrate on happier things now, for my son is soon to be reunited with two precious people who love him as much as we do."

Vannozza relented and smiled her agreement at her daughter.

"Has Miracella's gown arrived from your seamstress in the Borgo yet?"

"Giuseppa is fitting her now—it is most beautiful, and Miracella is beautiful in it—come, let us leave these pots to Benedetta, for the moment, and go help them," Vannozza said excitedly as she tore off her apron.

"Of course—Benedetta, I shall be back in time to baste those..." Lucrezia said of the braciola roasting on a spit.

"Don't worry, my Lady, I've got it," the smiling girl reassured her.

"We will be back shortly, Benedetta—and is your dress ready?" Lucrezia asked her then.

"It is, my Lady, and thank you so much!"

Lucrezia gave the girl a kiss to her cheek and then dashed off with her mother to see to her friend.


	60. Declarations

"Miracella! Oh, my love—you've the look of a most regal princess! Mother—you have outdone yourself! My Lady..." Lucrezia gave a deep curtsy at her friend upon the dressmaker's pedestal.

The gown was white silk with a lovely wide center panel of pearl-beaded white and silver damask, framed on both sides with a column of alternating diamonds and lustrous white pearl rosettes, each column contained within the delicate stripes of more pearl beading. The bodice was the same as the center panel and edged with diamonds and pearls; her shoulders were bare, showing the daring nature of the woman that Lucrezia and only a few others knew that the woman possessed; the sleeves, matching the damask and beaded edges of the bodice, were laced with diamond-tipped silver cording, beginning at the triceps of her arms, ending in an elegant white silk flounce that hung from elbow to wrist; about her neck hung a lovely gold and diamond festoon necklace; the veil from the tiara matching the necklace would be her only covering.

"She is the most lovely thing, isn't she, my Lady?" Giuseppa agreed from the floor as she worked on a section of the hem.

"How I do wish that my brothers could be here to see you and share in your happiness, my love."

"Please...do stop..." Miracella blushed at them, unused to such fine raiments or praise.

Vannozza approached her, took her hand and gave her palm a sweet kiss. "You are our jewel, Miracella; your service to my daughter and her children all of these years has turned into something much more than that and so full of love...there are not enough words to express my gratitude, or hers, at this time...you are as if a daughter of my very own, dear girl. I love a wedding, child, and this one brings very special joy to my heart."

"Thank you, my Lady."

"If only there was time to have her immortalized upon the canvas, mother! She must be painted—she and Dante...their wedding portrait," Lucrezia proclaimed in a manner that defied anyone to refuse her.

"We will arrange it my love, after they are settled in Naples," Vannozza assured her daughter. "Now, your mother and father arrive shortly from Frosinone...Dante's sainted mother arrived just before Lucrezia came back from seeing His Holiness—have you heard from your brother yet? He lives here in Rome, does he not?"

"He does—he works at the foundry here—a message came from him a short while ago—he will be here on time."

"Very good—I shall leave you to it for the moment, for I have their accommodations to see to—Miracella—"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"You are to worry about nothing; and your parents and mother-in-law-to-be have graciously agreed to remain as my guests until we have word that you and Dante have reached Naples safely."

"Thank you, my Lady."

"Lucrezia—"

"Yes, mother?"

"I shall stop back in on Benedetta on the way and meet you back in the kitchen later..."

"Yes, mother," Lucrezia said to her mother's back as Vannozza rushed away.

"Lucrezia? It is a scandal..." Miracella began with a worried frown upon her face.

Lucrezia looked up at her from where she knelt next to Giuseppa, helping her with the hem. "What is that, my love?"

"You're in the kitchen, as well? The Duchess of Ferrara?"

Lucrezia gave her a chuckle. "Miracella...yes, my love, I'm in the kitchen as well, and every dish to be served at your banquet tonight will be filled in abundance with the seasoning of my love for you."

"You do know, my Lady, that Lady Novella Rosso designed this gown?" Giuseppa asked her then.

"Yes, Giuseppa, our esteemed Florentine transplant..."

"Well, speaking of scandals..." Giuseppa looked up at Miracella and winked at her, to which Miracella blushed anew, "your lovely lady here received her fine gown, delivered here personally by Lady Rosso, and saw fit to make a few adjustments..."

"What?"

"Well, I'll tell you myself that the sleeves, the brodoni and coverciere were more than abominable—"

"No, Giuseppa, I cannot imagine anything about this gown being abominable..."

"Well, they were, I tell you; and your lady here, ripped them straight off and re-designed this lovely sleeve her very self!"

"Miracella?" Lucrezia looked her astonishment up at Miracella.

"I did," the woman admitted sheepishly.

"And what a lovely job you made of it! I was sure that it came this way, my love, but it does not surprise me that you improved it so beautifully..."

"Well, it surprised Lady Rosso!" Giuseppa piped at Lucrezia.

"What?"

"Your mother and I thought the Lady had surely been affronted..." she began conspiratorially.

"No..."

"Yes! But she took your girl here, firmly by the shoulders—"

"What!"

"And gave her a kiss to the cheek! 'Why didn't I think of that?' she exclaimed, to us all..."

Lucrezia's happy laughter joined Giuseppa and Miracella's.

"She couldn't contain herself, my Lady! She said, 'I know that you are off to be married, dear girl, but would you consider collaborating with me on my designs?'"

"She did?"

"She did! And for a fare share of any profit to be made, to boot."

"Miracella!"

"And your mother wasted no time with her concern, either, my Lady, negotiating a fair disposition, 'I shall be Miracella's agent here in Rome,' she told Lady Rosso, 'and shall deliver her sketches to you myself...' so that Miracella will not be taken advantage of...she didn't tell Lady Rosso that..." Giuseppa chortled.

"Well, of course not..."

"But the Contessa knows that the Lady is a shrewd one, you know what I mean?" Giuseppa elbowed Lucrezia on the arm.

"I do," Lucrezia smiled her amusement at the excited woman.

"I hazard to say, my Lady, that if Miracella were to stay in Rome she'd have herself a nice apprenticeship with the Lady..."

Lucrezia's happy smile faded as she looked up again at her friend; she rose to face her and clasped Miracella's hands within her own. "Miracella," she began softly, "I know that we have discussed many things since your return to Rome—I am so happy about this development with Lady Rosso—all you have to do is say the word and your life after this beauteous day would be your own, to share with Dante and to pursue your own dreams; my wish for your truest happiness is sincere."

Miracella stepped down from the pedestal and wrapped Lucrezia in her strong embrace. "I have the best of all possible worlds, sister—a husband to help me protect one that I love and cherish as my own; a dream to pursue even as I honor my promise to you, whom I love, and as has embraced me as her own—my truest happiness is surely realized, Lucrezia, never question that...never again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While his family busied themselves preparing for Miracella's wedding, Cesare had decided to take his meeting with Pandolfo Petrucci earlier than previously agreed upon; the rescheduled summons to Imola had caused quite a stir amongst the league of captains, as well as the call to reconvene again, this time at Todi, to discuss it before Petrucci departed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What is this now?" grumbled Giovanni Bentivogli. "That traitor Giulio Orsini has not even reached the Pope yet—is he that sure that what you have to say falls within his favor?" he leveled at Pandolfo.

"Does it truly matter, brothers?" Giuliano della Rovere answered for him. "It is all a ruse, anyway, is it not? Meet with him, Pandolfo, say what you have to say—Cesare Borgia's days are numbered."

"Are you daft? Florence does not support us, Cardinal! Milan does not support us! I am not very sure that your French king supports us, either..." Gian Paolo Baglioni erupted at him.

"Cesare thinks that we are cowed—we are not! He has no new troops...he has not enough arms against your nine-thousand men, Giovanni..."

"And why were the French companies recalled from Milan?" Bentivogli countered, "What in hell was that about?"

"Ah...but were they recalled or were they dismissed by Cesare?" the Cardinal asked them all. "Cesare is full of pride—King Louis sends no troops so he dismisses the French troops he does have as a defiant show—insolent, he is! Posturing, always posturing, you know this to be true! His pride will be the death of him. I don't know what he's thinking, nor do I have time to spend trying to understand the thinking processes of a mad man—we can take him, I tell you!"

"Are you aware, Cardinal, that as we speak Florence is sending Secretary of State Niccolo Machiavelli to Imola to assure Cesare that they will make no move against him? It is no longer conjecture on our part as to how our actions may sway them, one way or the other..." Visconte Ugo di Cardona informed them all then, upon which the room erupted in further outbursts of disgust and vitriol against Cesare.

"How do you know this so certainly, Ugo?" della Rovere asked the man through angry, squinted eyes.

"I have ears in Imola, Cardinal, ever since Borgia's return from Elba."

"And...what else...have your 'ears' heard, Ugo, hmm?"

"What exactly are you implying, Cardinal?"

"So... _convenient_...for you to have this news that douses all hopes of our efforts, is it not?"

All of the men in the room had quieted and awaited his answer.

"It is not a matter of convenience, but of _fact_ , Cardinal, and one that we should not take lightly as France and Spain haggle still—and with the potential for more violence between them—over Naples," di Cardona said calmly.

"He's right—unless we at least have the sanction of Florence we are ill-advised to make any decisive move against the Borgia Bastard, still," Oliverotto da Fermo groused; the other men reluctantly assented.

"How did we ever think that Ferrara would side with us? We have nothing, nine-thousand lances be damned..." Bentivogli further lamented.

"Yes, raised yourself a real genius there, Giovanni..." Gian Maria de Varano sniped at him regarding Bentivogli's son, Hermes.

"And fuck you, Gian! What actual use have _you_ been to anyone of late, eh? You don't really want to talk about _sons_ , do you? May yours rest in peace..." Giovanni shot back nastily.

Gian let out a mighty roar and sprang across the room at the other man, ready to tear him limb from limb.

"Enough! Brothers, enough! This gets us nowhere, this constant in-fighting!" Cardinal della Rovere exploded as he stepped between the two murderous men.

"And so we do what?" Petrucci asked disgustedly.

"We declare ourselves Soldiers of the fucking Church, that's what we do..." Vitellozzo Vitelli finally spoke out, his voice full of deadly contempt. "We save our asses and declare ourselves Soldiers of the Church and therefore our allegiance to His-fucking-Holiness, the Pope of Rome," he spat at the floor. "You tell the Borgia Bastard that, Petrucci."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so when Cesare met with Machiavelli the next day, Petrucci had come and gone and he was free to enjoy Machiavelli's visit unimpeded. Upon his arrival that early morning Machiavelli was brought to Cesare's tented headquarter.

"Your Excellency..."

"Our Esteemed Niccolo Machiavelli—congratulations on your post as Secretary of State."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Come...sit—let us drink together—it's never too early for wine, hmm? It is good to see you again."

Machiavelli took his seat in one of two leather armchairs placed at the ends of a short rectangular conference table, and the only items of any comfort within their confines. Cesare poured out goblets of wine for them both.

"I see that you are still a man of the people..." Machiavelli said as he took his goblet and looked about the tent.

"I realize that the people are tired of war; I prefer not to occupy their town or their palazzo's with the constant reminder of its evidence—it is my governance that matters, after all, and not where I rest my head at the end of the day, hmm? To me, anyway." Cesare tipped his goblet at his guest, who returned the gesture in kind.

"Yes, and your governance still greatly pleases, Your Excellency."

"Maybe."

"You mean Fossombrone, I'm sure."

"You are correct, good sir."

"Yes, my heartfelt sympathies regarding your losses there."

"Thank you, my Lord. So...Florence found it necessary to send her assurances personally? I trusted her word delivered upon parchment and ink."

"Well, in light of the matters at hand Florence felt it necessary to reiterate her position more...intimately—I think that you can understand why."

"Of course. Vitelli still bears a grudge against Florence—and me, of course—over the loss of his brother; and his voice is an important one amongst my...most wayward... _condottieri_..."

"And this action shall surely help to quiet his tongue, yes?"

"Yes, it appears that it already has—I just met with Pandolfo Petrucci yesterday—I thought Florence would have had news regarding their latest declaration, but... you were in transit, after all."

"And that latest declaration would be what?"

"They have declared themselves Soldiers of the Church, beholden to will of the Pontiff of Rome."

"Ah...and what else could they really do?"

"Indeed."

"You are not convinced of their...sincerity?"

Both men had to laugh out loud; over all of the words that they wished that they could voice to each other, yet dared not to.

"Yes, my friend, it all boils down to this, does it not?"

"And what is that, Cesare?"

" _La commedia della vita_ , hmm? For there comes a point, does there not, Niccolo?"

"Yes, I would have to agree." Machiavelli smiled warmly at him.

"But the time also comes where laughter subsides and the harsh realities return to full vision; they may find me vulnerable at such a moment, Niccolo, but even you would surely counsel them against actually believing that to be so, hmm?"

Machiavelli's smile faded as he realized the import of Cesare's true meaning; particulars he would never divulge, as was to be expected, but he knew that Cesare's declaration was a truer one than that of the cowardly league—who were so obviously resentful of hiding behind the Borgia Pope's crimson robe even as they cowered behind it—and held the promise of sure devastation should he be put to the test of acting upon it; the deadly gleam in his eyes corroborated that sure fact.

"Most assuredly, Excellency," came Machiavelli's sober pronouncement.

"No..." Cesare looked deeply into his goblet as he swirled the wine within it, "...it is _not_...a good season for rebels..."


	61. A Message

And so it was that Miracella Santili and Dante Pileggio were married in Vatican City by Pope Alexander Sixtus in the late afternoon of a warm spring day in 1502. In attendance were her parents, Signor and Signorina Mauro Santili, and her brother Vito; Dante's widowed mother Signorina Maria Pileggio; Barone and Baroness Giovanni Capece and their daughter, Laura; Cardinal Alessandro Farnese and Lady Silvia Ruffini; and, of course, Lucrezia, Giovanni and Vannozza. The small party left Saint Peter's directly after the ceremony for her wedding banquet feast, hosted by Contessa dei Cattanei at her palazzo.

"Ah! A lovely day, indeed, my love; Our daughter has a happy smile upon her face and We must thank you for it and making this day such a great success..." Rodrigo said as he leaned into Vannozza seated beside him at the banquet table; he took her hand and then gave the back of it a sweet kiss.

"You've been quite busy yourself, Rodrigo, managing to extend this little reprieve from Lucrezia's wrath..."

"You're referring to little Rodrigo, of course..."

"Of course; and don't look so stricken, my love—while that particular blow might have been handled with a softer approach, I do applaud you for finding a way to legitimize this brief respite for her—there is trouble in Ferrara, I'm certain of it."

"Has she said as much?"

"She does not have to...I only wish that she would allow herself to confide in me."

"Our darling girl may not seek out your verbal counsel, Vannozza, but have no doubt that she is drawing strength from your loving support of her...in all of the ways that matter most."

"And from you as well, my love—I thank you, again, for this day—it means everything to her that you married her Miracella to Dante."

"They are a handsome couple, indeed; it is a comfort to know that Our little Rodrigo will remain in Miracella's loving care; a comfort for Our daughter."

"And those are growing to be few and far between for all of us, Rodrigo, moments of comfort—how does Cesare fare? Truly? For he does not confide in me, either."

Rodrigo noted that her concerned words were full of hurt—and a fair amount of anger. "Well enough, Vannozza, but you are not alone in that regard—there is only so much he dares to divulge, even to Us. However, We _can_ tell you that there is always the need to secure more funds for the war chest, hmm?"

"And where will you seek them out this time?"

"Well, this may sound indelicate, but, luckily, there are several new properties that have reverted in ownership to Our Holy Mother Church, and—"

"'Luckily'? Really?" she scoffed at him.

" _Luckily_ , Vannozza, do mind yourself...as a matter of fact, this conversation would be better conducted in a manner that allows more privacy, hmm?"

"Is that all that Cesare really needs, Rodrigo? More money?" she whispered at him.

"Vannozza..."

"This misguided and total allegiance to France—"

"Not allegiance, Vannozza—Cesare's allegiance is to Us—" Rodrigo struggled to keep his own voice down then.

Vannozza gave him a look. "He is my son, too, Rodrigo, and you fear the same fact that even I know..."

"And that is what, dear lady?" Vannozza had effectively brought Rodrigo's own anger to the fore.

"The fact that Cesare's allegiance is indeed to you—but to himself, first. This devotion to France, that you both equally hold so dearly is tearing our family apart! Rodrigo of Aragon—is in the cross hairs between France and Spain, and what can Cesare do? Nothing! For the French king holds my own granddaughter hostage in order to control Cesare—holds back the arms that would help him put down the sons of Rome once and for all! Florence; Milan—no one is to be trusted! I have eyes and ears, Rodrigo, I know what Cesare is up against even if neither of you give voice to the true facts, to me or to yourselves!"

"That is enough, Vannozza!"

"The tensions between France and Spain are ruining our family, Rodrigo..."

"The tensions between France and Spain are ruining everything for everyone, Vannozza, but _now_ is not the time to talk about it..." he grumbled at her.

"When is the time to talk about it Rodrigo? You never talk to me anymore..."

"Can We not enjoy this time with Our daughter? What has gotten you so agitated on this day, Vannozza?"

"Everything, Rodrigo, that is not as it is supposed to be! I thought that I would have peace but there is no peace to be had—not in our family—not in Rome—nowhere in this world! I am so tired of it all!"

Rodrigo pulled her up from her chair and herded Vannozza delicately out of the banquet room and to the kitchen on the first floor; the servants, busy preparing the next round of refreshments to serve, were startled by their sudden and rushed appearance; Rodrigo gave a stern look around the room at the lot of them and they all scurried nervously away; he turned his attention back to the angry woman he held pinned against the wall.

"Vannozza, I can see now how much these times have taken a toll upon you—it is not something that I am accustomed to, to see you in such a fragile state and I am sorry about your distress..."

"The sin of omission is in effect here, Rodrigo—our family will burn in hell for its most flagrant indulgences in that one transgression alone—"

Rodrigo gave a heavy sigh and hung his head, then looked his apology at her. "There is nothing more that I can tell you at this point, that would ease you, my love—Cesare cannot even confide all of his strategies in me, for there are murderous ears everywhere; I know no more than you regarding Lucrezia and Alfonso; Gioffre continues to successfully follow his own destiny, and now so will Rodrigo—I don't know what more there is that you want me to say, I cannot divine the future!" His frustration was sincere.

"I'm not asking for you to divine the future, Rodrigo—"

"Then what is that you are asking of me?"

"Nothing that you can give me, Rodrigo—nothing..." she lamented sadly, "not even yourself."

Rodrigo took the sobbing woman into his arms and cradled her gently. "I thought that this day would bring you and end to some of your worries, my love...I am so sorry that is not the case..."

"My family is disjointed; at war; estranged; soon Lucrezia will be gone for good, and so too, will you; only one of my grandchildren even knows me, and when he goes away to Ferrara he will forget me; I have not been dealing well with my mortality, of late, Rodrigo, and the joys that old age should afford me...are not afforded to me..."

"Vannozza...does...does Theo not give you comfort?"

"How dare you...how dare you, Rodrigo!" She looked her outrage up at him then. "Theo is a good man; a kind and loving man...who deserves far better than me—and you; for there is no me without you, is there? Three husbands you have provided me and not one of them has ever held my heart so firmly within his grasp as you—no other man ever will. Go away from me, now, so that I may reconcile myself to the realities of my life once and for all. Let me go, Rodrigo..."

"Vannozza, please..." he pleaded at her as she tried to wrest his arms from about her.

"No—enough of this..." Vannozza wiped furiously at her tears as she tore out of his embrace. "I must fix myself and put on a happy guise for my daughter and my guests..."

"I will come to you later tonight, my love..."

Vannozza gave him a resolute and pure look of sure contempt. "Don't bother."

Her final words came at him like the warning hiss of a viper and made Rodrigo's hands shrink away from their intent to take soothing hold of her again; he stood staring after the empty spot where she had been, looking as helpless as he felt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By sunup the next morning the newlyweds and their escort had already departed for Nepi; two hours later Lucrezia was in a meeting with her father in his chambers at Saint Peter's.

"Ah! Here she is! Good morning, Our lovely one..." Rodrigo rose from behind his desk to greet her with a hug.

"Good morning, Holy Father."

"Sit, dear one, and let Us discuss..."

They took their seats; Lucrezia settled comfortably in hers before her father's desk and waited.

"It was a most lovely affair last night, was it not?" he asked as he collected himself.

"It was, and thank you so much for everything, Holy Father."

"So, you saw them safely off this morning, then?"

"I did."

"Very good. And the wedding party?"

"Miracella's brother took his leave, as well, but the happy parents all wait with mother to hear of the safe arrival of all of our beloved in Naples, as do I."

"Very good," he smiled at her.

"Mother was in a strange mood this morning—you two left the festivities rather abruptly last night—is there cause for concern, Holy Father?"

"You noticed that, did you?"

"Everyone noticed that, Holy Father."

Rodrigo smiled to himself at the thought of his fair Vannozza, who had meant her cold words at him in kitchen of her palazzo the night before, but whose heart he'd managed to warm in the early hours of the morning after she'd seen to the last of her guests.

"Lucrezia, do you never confide in your mother?"

Lucrezia was taken slightly aback by his question. "I talk to mother as often as possible...our correspondences are the most lovely things, Holy Father, when we are apart..."

"We said _confide_ , Lucrezia, and mean at a time such as this, dear one, when you are together."

"Oh, well, of course—"

Rodrigo shook his head slowly at her. "One can surely understand why We cannot reveal all to your dear mother, Lucrezia, but what is _your_ reason for keeping her so magnificently in the dark concerning your disposition in Ferrara?"

"Really? Keeping her in the dark? Or you, Holy Father?"

Rodrigo gave a heavy sigh at Lucrezia.

"She has put you up to this? You two do work so efficiently together in matters such as these..." Lucrezia accused him.

"She has not, Lucrezia—it is Our love for her, and Our upset at seeing her so unhappy that causes Us to seek your aid in this," he said sternly.

Lucrezia's irritation was not abated. "I thought that I was here to discuss my duties in your upcoming absence, Holy Father..."

"You are and We will—We are concerned about your mother."

"Is something wrong?"

"She feels that she is losing us all, Lucrezia: you; Cesare; Gioffre—and an ever more special pain over Giovanni, Rodrigo and Louise—"

"And you, more than all of us combined..."

"No, Lucrezia...We knew well the bargain We were making when love truly blossomed between us; it has not been easy since We came to the throne of Saint Peter, and you know that well."

"I do. And so what is it, exactly, that you think that I can do for her at this late date, with our fates cast as they are, Holy Father?"

"She loves you so much, Lucrezia; your happiness, so out of her control, means everything to her; your unhappiness is a thing most unbearable for her—"

"And what would you have me do, Holy Father? Short of setting back the hands of time to our happier days when you were a Bishop, I don't know what I _can_ do..."

"You can promise Us that you will let her _in_ , Lucrezia; you do not have to reveal all, she is not trying to pry or interject herself into your marriage, but knowing that there is a problem and not being able to have you at least find your comfort in whatever manner that she would endeavor to give it—it is too much for her, where you are concerned—do you understand?"

Lucrezia relented and answered him softly, "I do, father—"

"And you must promise Us that Giovanni and your future children—for there must be future children, Lucrezia—will always know her—she greatly fears not being a presence in their lives."

"She must never fear that, father—I promise you that with my whole heart. I will talk to her...really talk to her."

"Very good—that is your utmost duty to attend to while We are away."

"And where are you going, Holy Father?"

"We have business in the North—funds to secure for Cesare's war chest, hmm?"

"I see."

"You are already well-acquainted with the matters in which you may represent Us, and how to handle those that will call for Our attention alone upon Our return; your presence alone here will keep the Consistory in order. We shall not be gone very long, two weeks at most, hmm?"

"Yes, Holy Father, very well."

"We've a meeting first with the Tyrant of Siena this morning—Pandolfo Petrucci has made his way here, We understand—and then We shall announce your proxy to the Consistory; give Us another hour, Lucrezia and meet Us here so that we may go together?"

"Of course, Holy Father—is there trouble for Cesare?" Lucrezia did well to keep her truest worry from furrowing her brows.

"We think...not," he gave a sly smile at her, for Rodrigo had already been made well-aware, from an envoy of Captain Corella's soldiers, what Petrucci had come to see him about. "Alright then...We must call in Burchard and Cardinals Sforza and d'Este—"

"Ippolito?"

"Yes—We believe your last missive to your husband gave no hint of this development, as it was not known to you at the time—We would like the next missive to come from his brother; it will most assuredly be delivered, as if on the wings of angels, We'd hazard, after Our meeting today," he chuckled at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so Rodrigo left the Holy City the next day to go claim the properties and holdings of three deceased—and very wealthy—cardinals, leaving his throne in the very capable hands of his daughter. As he'd suspected, a letter was drafted by Cardinal Ippolito d'Este that very evening and dispatched on the same to his father and brother in Ferrara.

"I've been blessed with daughters as formidable as men, Alfonso, but so much more beautiful to look at, eh?" Ercole gushed at his son.

"What, father?"

It was the day after Ippolito's dispatch; father and son had just adjourned a meeting with their lordly retinue when a messenger arrived.

"Look at this—" When he was done Ercole handed the letter to Alfonso, whose expression upon reading it was not as joyous as his father's had been.

"What? Is this a joke?"

"She's done it before, I hear—and the consistory was most agreeable with her governance, I was told. Yes, two fine daughters—one born and one that could have been—my Isabella and my Lucrezia! It will be a happy day when she returns to Ferrara—and then the two of you can get back to the business of working on my grandchildren, eh?" Ercole gave his son a hearty pat on his shoulder.

Alfonso said nothing as he read the letter again; two weeks in the chair of Saint Peter—a woman. His woman. _No, not my woman, at all_ , he groused silently; he wanted to rip the letter to shreds and shoot an arrow into his brother's skull for sending it; enjoyed the vision in his head of doing such a thing even though he knew it was only a wish to savor instead of one that he could make come true. As he was about to walk away with it his father took it out of his hands, a proud smile still upon his face, then gave Alfonso another piece of maddening news.

"I'll take that—come on, now, Giulio awaits us..."

"What? Giulio?"

"Yes...Giulio—I ordered your brother's release from his confines in Brescello—I have things that I must discuss with him and I want you present so that there will be no misunderstandings as to my wishes—for either of you—and don't anger me, Alfonso, or I shall be inclined to go to Rome and take it up with my daughter, Pope Lucrezia..."

Ercole's riotous laughter only served to infuriate his son further; unable to speak on two accounts— because he was too angry to form words, and because he dared not to disrespect his father—Alfonso fell sullenly back behind Ercole as they marched away, his footsteps as heavy with dread and disgust as his father's were light and full of joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

During her father's absence Lucrezia kept her promise to him to open up to her mother; even though she was unable to reveal the real reason for Alfonso's sudden shift in attitude she did attribute it honestly to its most basic component: Alfonso's jealousy of her close relationship with Cesare.

"Well, all of your husbands have had a problem with that, have they not? So ridiculous—and Giovanni Sforza's fault, that pig-swine..." Vannozza harrumphed at her daughter as they sat talking on a quiet evening in Lucrezia's apartment at Castel Sant'Angelo.

"Yes, well, he's paid for his transgressions well-enough, I'm happy to say."

"Yes, but his slur lives on, now causing this regretful situation. I had thought better of Alfonso, my love, and this greatly disappoints me."

"Yes, well..."

"It is not an insurmountable thing, Lucrezia; I understand now what you meant when you said that it was a matter of acclimation—give him time..."

"That's what I'm doing mother..."

"Not _too much_ time, daughter."

"I don't think that two months is asking for too much..."

"Of course _you_ do not, Lucrezia...can you not give in a bit? Go home to your husband upon your father's return?"

Lucrezia's hand went absently to her abdomen as she thought about the life that could be growing within it.

"Are you alright, my love?"

"Hmm?"

"You're holding your stomach—the grapes were over-ripe this morning...I threw out bunches upon my inspection of the kitchen—you did not eat any did you?"

"I had a few...I'm sure that I'll be fine—these are helping greatly to keep up my spirits..." Lucrezia said of the letters from Miracella that lay on the divan between her mother and herself.

"I had lovely letters from Signor and Signora Santili and Dante's dear mother—it was a pleasure to host them; I am so glad that everyone is safely home."

"As am I."

"Thank you, Lucrezia, for easing, just a little bit, an old woman's fractious mind..." Vannozza said as she took one of her daughter's hands and kissed the back of it. "I know what I saw when Alfonso came to Rome—both times, my love; he is a man in love, that's all; I would always counsel you to put a dagger to him if he tries to abuse you, but I do not think that he is truly that sort at all—you would tell me, wouldn't you?"

"I would mother—he is not that sort," Lucrezia told her mother convincingly. _But is it the lie that I tell myself that makes it so easy for me to tell you? I do not truly know, mother...and again I lie, for my neck knows well the answer to that question..._ she thought back to her wedding night, the first time he put his hands upon her in anger, and that horrible night in Mantua when Cardinal Bembo had come to her rescue.

"Then give him time to come around, my love, and go home sooner rather than later, hmm?"

"I shall give your loving words their fair consideration, mother."

"And that is all that I ask of you, daughter."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weeks in Rome passed without incident; on the evening before Rodrigo was set to return Lucrezia received a very special delivery, brought to her by none other than Captain Corella.

"Micheletto! Brother, I am so happy to see you! But—"

He had come by way of a secret passage to her apartment in Castel Sant'Angelo and had given her a mighty hug after she'd admitted him happily into her room.

"From your brother, little sister..." he held out the over-sized, sealed letter.

She knew immediately what it must be and that Micheletto knew, as well; Lucrezia opened it slowly to reveal a small canvas, bearing the magnificent strokes of master da Vinci himself; the sketch upon it was breathtaking...incomplete—and utterly terrifying to behold.

"These have been finished and made real, Micheletto? My brother commands these?"

"He does."

"And...I...am to see my baby?"

"You are."

Lucrezia had shed relatively few tears since the crushing news of Rodrigo's disposition; it had seemed a miracle to her own self and a welcomed deliverance, for she had shed so many tears in her short life; however, the weight of Micheletto's presence and the meaning of the drawing in her hand came down upon her suddenly, as if she had been thunderstruck; as the canvas slipped out of her hand and to the floor, so too, did a cloudburst of tears join it; she leaned against Micheletto's chest and into his embrace, unable to stop the flood that had been so long held at bay.


	62. Blessing

"So, little sister, you are clear on the details?"

"I am, Micheletto."

"Very good...I ride to Naples next, to escort Miracella and Rodrigo safely to the intended destination...are you prepared to deal with your father?"

"I am—are you sure that you can get them out and away without interference, Micheletto?"

"We must truly thank God in His Heaven, for your Miracella, little sister: the Duchess is much too ill to oversee anything more than her bed and many medications—she has not even seen Rodrigo since his arrival in Naples; and Naples is ever occupied under the pernicious attentions of France and Spain. No one has—or will dare—to question Miracella's administration of your son, or her intention to take him to Viterbo to his visit his mother's dearest friend, Baroness Giulia Capece." Micheletto gave a knowing bow of his head as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Lucrezia gave him the solemn nod of her own head. "I shall have two weeks with him..." she murmured, her voice as distant as the look in her misty eyes.

"Have you decided about Giovanni?"

Lucrezia cast away the smothering veil of melancholy that was trying to descend upon her. "Yes—he will stay here—he's still asks about his 'Digo'—to see him again for such a brief time will only confuse him more; he was so jealous of Rodrigo when he was born, but he had, apparently, taken his role as big brother quite seriously, I understand from Miracella," she smiled wanly at him, "it would crush him to part with his brother again, I'm sure...I don't even know how I'm going to get through this, Micheletto..."

Micheletto stood up from her divan where they had been sitting together and drew her up by her shoulders within the firm grasp of his hands; Lucrezia fought bravely to still her tears but found it necessary to look away from his even firmer gaze upon her; his next words, though terse and clipped, were full of love. "You will get through this, little sister..." His nod at her then sought out her own confirmation as he lifted her chin gently so that her eyes would meet his. "Hmm?"

Lucrezia nodded back through a brave tilt of her chin.

"Very well...you leave day after tomorrow...three days after that you shall be holding your babe in your loving arms once again."

"Oh..." she gave a disgusted little sigh, "I shall have a whole day to suffer my father's sure upset...and my mother's unrelenting questions...if only he was here already..."

"And it would do no good, for you know that it is far wiser to wait and depart with the dawn, Lucrezia..."

"Yes...I know, don't mind me, Micheletto, I shall take my comfort in the fact that I am leaving at all, yes?"

Micheletto gave a reassuring kiss to the back of her hand. "I must go..."

"Yes, thank you, my love—be safe, Micheletto, and Godspeed, to you."

He gave her a final nod, then went to her door and slipped quietly away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What? What is this you say? Lady Dorotea Carracciuola? Dorotea _Malatesta_ Carracciuola?"

"Yes, Holy Father, the one and the same."

"Has invited you to Venice?" Rodrigo grumbled his further confusion at his daughter's strange news.

"As did the Duchess of Urbino, Holy Father, upon their departure from Ferrara after my wedding."

Lucrezia was in Rodrigo's office reporting to her father what had transpired while he was away, before they met officially with the Consistory; Rodrigo paced the floor in angry circles around his daughter.

"Is this even appropriate, Lucrezia? How did she even know that you were here?"

"Come now, Holy Father—everyone knows that I am here, but her invitation was forwarded from Ferrara and just received by me only two days ago. Is there a problem? And would you please stand still, I'm beginning to feel faint..."

Rodrigo stopped before her. "Lucrezia, you do quite effectively try all of Our patience—We return from Our successful campaign to find your glorious ministry of Our interests here, as was fully expected, and with Our deepest gratitude. Now, We know that two months were agreed upon, but We had hoped to hear that you were ready to return to Ferrara...yet here you are, ready to go traipsing further about Italy without the escort of your husband! And to see _that_ woman? You know well the rumors that swirled just very recently about her and your own brother—"

"False rumors, Holy Father—surely you did not believe them..."

"Aargh! And what do you know about it, hmm? _That_ woman—that your brother so cleverly covered for—required a letter from Us...to her husband...admonishing him to lay no ill hand upon her at her return to Venice—did you know that? Tell Us what _lady_ requires such a thing if she is virtuous and upstanding? Hmm? That Cesare insisted on it on her behalf only proves that his account to Us of his acquaintance with her was not truthful. And why not? We care not for the women he's trysted with, in the past, present or future—but she is Malatesta! Malatesta is no friend to Rome and no friend to Borgia, Lucrezia! Surely you remember the troubles your own brother had with hers, hmm? Have you forgotten Cesare's contests with him in Rimini? Hmm? The whole family is a blight upon Rome and that woman is unsavory..." he blustered his frustration at her.

For what Dorotea had done for Cesare, and was now allowing her to achieve with her son, Lucrezia felt her very much to be a friend of Borgia and defended Dorotea accordingly.

"Do they not say the same of us, Holy Father? Of me? And just what has a daughter to do with the actions of her father or her brothers, Holy Father? Does her husband not fight for Cesare? For the Papal States of Rome? She has extended a fine courtesy upon me that I am honored to accept. I leave at dawn and shall be her gracious and most-honored guest for two weeks..."

"Two...two? Two weeks? And what of this time you extracted from Us so tormentedly to spend with your son, hmm? What about that? We suppose that you will assault Our emotions again and ask for another two weeks to amend this trip away, in the bargain..."

"You lovingly agreed—and gave me—two months, Holy Father, to reconcile with my son; I will not leave—sooner or later—than was agreed upon," she informed him through a careful smile. "As for Giovanni, he remembers me well-enough, now, that this brief time away shall not traumatize him, especially as he will be here in the loving care of his _Nonna_ , and soon will depart with me to live his new life in Ferrara."

"Lucrezia, this is simply too much—We suppose We don't even have to ask if your mother knows about this...did We not ask you to confide in her while We were away?"

"I did and she does not..."

Rodrigo gave her a look.

She wished that she could have told her mother but she did not wish to make Vannozza an accomplice to her plans in the event that they were discovered by her father, then or ever. "I shall use your words, Holy Father: this is no conspiracy against you or mother—I only just received word from the Lady and I had to speak with you, first, of course..." Lucrezia lied effortlessly.

"Oh? To ask Our _permission_?" Rodrigo said the word venomously through a low growl and a squinted, accusatory glare.

"Let us not quarrel any longer, Holy Father—"

"Aargh! You act as if you have no husband, at all, Lucrezia! No obligations! No duchy to administer to! We do not understand! The way that you have been behaving of late—it simply is not done!"

Lucrezia looked at her father but all that she could see was three days travel and little Rodrigo in her arms at the end of the journey; she approached her livid father with sure and steady steps, took one of his hands into hers and pressed the palm of it to her warm cheek, then gave it a reverent kiss. "Father, this is the last indulgence I shall ask of you, for when I leave Rome...leave you and mother, I will never return again, you know this. I have been blessed to have this opportunity to come home, and I am ever indebted to you that you have allowed it.

"But for all of the things that are simply not done, you have done them all...I am not my father, but I am my father's daughter, am I not?"

Rodrigo's face crumbled at her words and the look of torment upon it was exquisite. "Lucrezia..."

"That is not a pronouncement against you, father, please do not take it that way... I simply mean to say—"

"We know what you mean, daughter," he said sadly.

"I love you, father," she took his hand and pressed it to her cheek as she put her other to his, "I assure you that Lady Carracciuola is a friend of Rome...and a friend of Borgia— _all_ Borgia; if I knew that not to be true I would have never accepted her invitation. I'm going to tell mother, now, that we have spoken of this—may I tell her also that I have your blessing?"

Rodrigo took his daughter into his arms and hugged her tightly to him as he nodded his resignation and silent acquiescence against the top of her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vannozza was equally outdone at Lurcezia's news and was only slightly placated by the fact that Rodrigo had given his permission to allow their daughter's trip away; there was not much time to discuss it, however, for Lucrezia's next order of business was to pack and get as decent a night's sleep as Giovanni would permit.

"That woman? Who caused your brother so much scandal? Now there will be more, as this little trip of yours shall surely cause tongues to re-visit it again..." Vannozza fumed as she helped her daughter to pack.

"Let them, mother, for would a woman who had supposedly been so ill-treated—held captive, no less—by Cesare Borgia against her will invite his sister as a guest in her own home? Let them talk about _that_..."

Vannozza had not even thought about that aspect and for a second her mouth snapped angrily shut.

"No—not that chemise, mother, I need to mend it—see the rip there?"

Vannozza flung the damaged chemise away to the bed. "What will your husband think of this?"

Lucrezia sighed her frustration at her mother as she stopped at her task. "Who says that he has to know, mother?"

"Why shouldn't he know, Lucrezia?" In her mother's tone was an accusation. "Hmm? The lady is a friend of d'Este as well, through the Duchess of Urbino, why shouldn't he know?"

_Because it will most assuredly cause his ire and more problems for me upon my return, that's why..._ she thought angrily to herself. "I will tell him of my visit when I return to Ferrara, mother—I have no secrets from my husband," she answered her mother stonily.

Vannozza opened her mouth to speak but the look in her daughter's eyes very effectively stilled her tongue; Lucrezia went back to packing her cassone.

"I shall go and see about dinner, then—we must sup early so that you may get some rest before your ride in the morning..." Vannozza said as she headed for the door.

"Thank you mother."

"Giovanni's hours have been so late, these past weeks...I can keep him tonight, you will—"

Lucrezia stopped again at her task and faced her mother. "Thank you, mother, I shall put him to bed, as usual; should he keep me up, well, I can sleep all that I like in the carriage, yes?" Every nerve in her body was screaming for an end to the questions and upset but Lucrezia forced a sweet smile at her mother.

"Alright, Lucrezia, alright. I'll see you shortly, then," her mother relented.

"Yes mother, thank you." Lucrezia went to her and kissed her cheek.

Vannozza gave her daughter her continued and confounded glare but said nothing else before she took her leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Lucrezia left with the rising sun with her escort of five-hundred soldier's led by a guard hand-picked by Captain Micheletto Corella himself on behalf of her brother. Three days later she found herself rolling through the beautiful Venetian countryside and then at the palazzo of General and Lady Gian Carracciuola.

"Welcome, my Lady, to my humble home," Dorotea curtsied at her as Lucrezia approached from her carriage. "My husband is away and shall not have the pleasure of your company, I'm afraid, so the happy task is left all to me to see to your every need and entertainment—I hope that suits, my Lady?"

the beautiful woman said through a wide, sincere smile. "Come with me now to my salon, for refreshment and a soft seat?"

"Yes, thank, Lady Carracciuola—"

"Dorotea, my love...come...out of this unseasonable heat with you, yes?" she said as she handed Lucrezia a lovely fan and snapped her own open deftly; she held out her arm then to her guest. "You have arrived before our other guests, my Lady, as your trip was slightly shorter—they will be here by sundown..." she whispered at Lucrezia under her fan as she led her away. "Thank you for accepting my invitation, my Lady, I am so honored...this way, then..." Dorotea said out loud for the others to hear as she led her overwhelmed charge away.


	63. Goodbye

While Dorotea busied herself seeing to her staff and the refreshments that they were setting out, Lucrezia looked about the room taking in her surroundings; her thoughts alternated between those of her baby's journey on the road from Naples; those of her reunion with him, which was drawing near; and finally fixated on Dorotea's beauty—and visions of Cesare in the throes of passion with her.

"My Lady?"

Lucrezia's cheeks were as red as the wine in the goblet that Dorotea was holding out for her to take.

"Thank you, Dorotea, I—"

Dorotea sent the servants away and took her seat beside her flustered guest. "Lucrezia—"

"I have known many beautiful women in my time, Dorotea, and none more beautiful than the women who have captured the hearts of the men in my family—but you are most breathtaking..."

"Your thoughts of your brother and I—"

"Go jealously before me, Dorotea, I can admit it. It is so wrong to say, and I never believed the rumors when I heard them, but I have no doubt that it was all quite the other way around, for surely my brother was your happy captive."

"And rumors they were, Lucrezia, for I went more than willingly away with your brother, knowing even then that his heart would never truly be with me; I knew that long before my Cervian adventures...he confided in me about you from the very beginning."

"Yes, Cesare told me that he's known you for quite some time."

"Yes, and of his desire for you, which both tormented him and provided him his greatest joy, long before those desires were actually met."

"You knew..."

"Your secret has always been safe with me, Lucrezia...and after all that has happened to and between us, I count Cesare as a true friend, and am honored that he is able to call me the same." Dorotea took one of Lucrezia's hands into her own. "I hope that you may be able to do so, as well."

"For all that you have made possible to happen on this day, Dorotea, yes, I truly do. I cannot thank you enough."

Dorotea gave Lucrezia's hand a happy squeeze as a bittersweet little smile came to her guest's face. "What is it, Lucrezia?"

"Do you not think us both vile, my Lady?" Lucrezia asked forlornly as she looked down at her lap.

"Oh...Lucrezia..." Dorotea took a long look at the sad girl before her, "please do not do this to yourself—I was not put upon this earth to judge other people; and for all that you and Cesare have both suffered over your love for one another—no one who truly knows you should ever dare to heap more upon you, I know that."

"I have never had anyone else to confide in about Cesare, Dorotea; my husband knows the truth because I could not lie to him, but honesty has not helped to cement my marriage at all."

"Sometimes, my Lady..." Dorotea began delicately, "a lie is far kinder than the truth, and surely hurts less...sometimes. He does love you, you know—your Alfonso."

"Are you trying to be kind to me now, my Lady? I know that he made advances upon you in Ferrara—you can tell me honestly."

Across from her Dorotea chuckled as she shook her head lightly. "I will tell you that he was angry, Lucrezia; it was anger that caused his intrigue, not desire, not that it would have mattered to me one way or the other, my love—my _friend?_ "

"Yes..." Lucrezia looked up from her lap, "my friend."

"Very good. Now come with me..." she stood up and pulled Lucrezia along with her, then linked arms with her. "I would like to see these washed from this beautiful face..." Dorotea said of Lucrezia's tear-stained cheeks, "and show you your suite and the lovely nursery that I have had prepared for you and your babe...to get it ready in time I had to undertake the endeavor while my husband was still about—my apology for "abandoning" him at the altar," she said conspiratorially under her breath. She led Lucrezia out of the salon and past more servants they met along the way. "It was all by proxy and he was in the employment of your brother, for the sake of God, he missed nothing!" she chuckled.

"A little lie, my Lady?" Lucrezia whispered at her.

"Yes—that may someday become the truth—after a fashion..."

They were on the second floor of the palazzo and passed another group of servants as they headed for the stairs leading to the third. Lucrezia looked a question at Dorotea but held her tongue until they were alone at the door of her suite. "Please pardon my confusion, but...you are with child?"

"I am."

"Well! Congratulations to you and your husband, then, Dorotea!" said Lucrezia, still mindful of keeping her voice low.

"Thank you, Lucrezia," she said as she ushered her charge into the room, "but the child is not my husband's..." Dorotea whispered back through a happy grin.

"Oh...is it...Cesare's?"

Dorotea's grin widened impossibly as she happily shook her head; she leaned in close to Lucrezia's ear "Let me tell you about my Diego..." she said before she closed the door behind them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Lucrezia had been settled comfortably in her suite Lady Carracciuola dismissed her complete household staff to two weeks holiday, with her generous thanks and even more generous pay, and then waited for her next guests. Several hours later at sundown Captain Micheletto Corella arrived with his very special party in tow: Signor and Signorina Dante Pileggio and their very precious charge, Rodrigo of Aragon, Duke of Bisceglie and Sermoneta of the House of Trastámara, all escorted straight-away by Dorotea to Lucrezia's suite.

"My loves!" Lucrezia greeted them all when they came through her door.

"Rodrigo—here is your loving mother..." Miracella cooed at him as she took to the boy to his mother's waiting arms.

As much as she silently thanked God for the reality of the babe in her arms, Lucrezia found herself overcome with complete joy at seeing Rodrigo again, and sadness, as well, over the brief time she would have to spend with him; unable to get out any further words as she embraced her baby, and with tears spilling down her cheeks, she hugged him gently to her bosom. Within moments he began to cry, as well.

"Come, family..." Micheletto spoke up then, "we must let mother and child be..." he said as he went to the open door behind them and waited.

"He does not recognize her..." Dorotea said in a shocked whisper as they all noted the boy struggling against Lucrezia's embrace. "Do something!" she looked frantically to Miracella, whose heart was breaking, as well.

"My Lady, they must be allowed to bond again..." Miracella said reluctantly, for she did want to go and assist Lucrezia in her visible and mounting despair; Rodrigo's unhappy cries as he looked about for deliverance by Miracella was more than unbearable for her.

"She is right, my Lady—come away..." Micheletto insisted again firmly.

"Come, Miracella, he will never settle down as long as you are within sight..." Dante said sadly as he took gentle hold of his wife's arm, "come, my love..."

"Oh..." Dorotea gave a helpless sigh, "I had not counted on this..." she looked back at the closed door as they all stood in the hall, where they could hear Lucrezia's own frustrated tears and unsuccessful pleas to calm her son. Unable to bear it a moment longer Miracella bolted away to the staircase, her concerned husband hot on her heels.

"Dorotea, come away—it will work itself out in time..."

"Time, Micheletto? She has no time..." she said through a disgusted snort.

"Thanks to you, my Lady, she does indeed...some time, at least. Come..."

They returned to the first floor to find Dante watching over his worried wife as she paced the floor, wringing her hands and muttering to herself under her breath.

"I tried to prepare him, but he is so little...it was easy with Giovanni, there was more of her to remember with him..."

"Miracella..."

"I speak to him every day about his mother..."

"I know that you have, my love..."

"I need a portrait of her, Dante, something to show him...Aragon is everywhere, of course—his father in the grand hall, and that's lovely, but I need my own personal portrait, for they will never hang Lucrezia's anywhere about..."

"We shall send for one from the Countess, my love—surely she can wrest one away from His Holiness..."

"She will have to—he must know her...such a life! How does anyone do this?"

"Miracella..."

They both turned to the sound of Micheletto's voice to find his and Dorotea's sympathetic eyes upon them.

"Yes, Captain Corella?"

"I must go now. I will be back for you in two weeks to escort you back to Naples, of course. It is a thing easier said than done, but do try and take your ease, hmm?"

"Thank you, Captain, I shall try."

With a solemn nod at each of them Micheletto took his leave.

"Come with me now—surely you are hungry..." Dorotea went to the tired couple, linked her arms through theirs and led them away, "I've had food prepared for your visit, but please be assured that, even though all of my servants have been sent away, I know my happy way around the kitchen and I am pleased to serve you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it was that by the time Rodrigo was comfortably reacquainted with his mother it was also time to depart from her. The morning of their departure Lucrezia and Miracella worked quietly together as they finished packing and then dressed Rodrigo for his journey.

"I appreciate your idea, Miracella, to have a portrait of me for Rodrigo, but do not trouble yourself too much—he still does not really know who I am. Someday, he will be a grown man, free to come to me as he pleases; until that day I will write to him and the letters will be saved for him to read; he will know that his mama loved him and will always love him; now, sister, I am ever thankful to God that he has you."

"Have you had found any comfort in this visit at all, Lucrezia? Truly?"

"Yes, my love, I can honestly say so. I have held him; played with him; pretended that I am like every other woman blessed to raise her child—blessed because they don't have to think anything of it; blessed to be able to find it stressful—even boring; blessed to experience the milestones that their children reach, wondrous and mundane; blessed even through the sleepless nights...the crying...that precious, precious laughter. I shall never know all of that truly with Rodrigo, but I know that because of him, I shall never feel bored or take any of those things for granted with Giovanni or any other children God may allow me.

"I have pretended these past weeks that he is mine and enjoyed every minute, the tears and the laughter, but the reality now is Naples and our imminent goodbye; at least I was able to say goodbye, Miracella; it will ever be my heartbreak, but I cannot even imagine...the alternative—I do not begin to know how to express it properly...it is hard to think of surviving, yet one must, must they not? I will survive this, better than if I had never seen him again—it amazes even me to say it."

They were standing arm in arm as they watched Rodrigo falling back to sleep in his crib; Miracella gave Lucrezia a strong hug.

"And I may never see you again..."

"But I will write to you, my love, that you must know, and keep you abreast of your lovely boy..."

" _Our_ lovely boy...yes...and someday I hope to hear that you and Dante—"

"Have a niece or nephew to present to you at Ferrara," Miracella smiled at her through silent tears.

"Yes, that would be a most beautiful thing..."

There was a knock upon the door then.

"Come in."

"Lucrezia, my love...Miracella—Captain Corella is here," Dorotea announced sadly when she came in.

"I am glad that he is asleep, my love—away with you, then—for if I leave this room now to see you all off—" Lucrezia's throat choked up and she could not finish her words.

"Lucrezia..."

"Godspeed and all of my thanks and wishes for your happy life, sister."

The two women hugged and kissed each other one last time before Miracella scooped Rodrigo gingerly up from his crib; Lucrezia gave a sweet, delicate kiss to his forehead and then one to the back of his limp, soft little hand; her throat tightened up again and she turned abruptly away, able only to nod her goodbye at them both. As Dorotea ushered them away Lucrezia felt another come up behind her and rest his hands gently upon her shoulders.

"Little sister."

Still unable to speak and trying valiantly to fight off a vicious crying jag Lucrezia took hold of his hands and gave them a squeeze as she tried desperately to get hold of herself.

"I wish that it was possible, but I have no words that would even remotely be able to comfort you now..."

"And...I love you, too, Micheletto..." she managed to whisper at him.

"I shall see them safely home, this you know."

Lucrezia gave a nod of her head and a pat to his hands before she released them; Micheletto gave her a chaste kiss to the top of her head and then was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, my friend, are you ready now to return to your husband?"

"No."

Both women chuckled over their goblets of wine as they sat later that evening in the salon of Dorotea's apartment.

"I'm not even ready to return to Rome, Dorotea; I wish that I could ride back, abduct my Giovanni and keep going, far away from Rome and Ferrara, where a life of my own truly awaited me."

"And where would that be, my love?"

"Of that I have no Godly idea. I have been living in a dream these past two weeks—it is a hard habit to break, I find. This lovely wine is not helping, I'm afraid."

"Then we should stop..." Dorotea put her goblet down and made to take Lucrezia's, "for you must have your wits about you in the morning..."

"Don't you dare, my Lady! We must not spill one precious drop! Oh!" Lucrezia escaped the playful clutch of her hostess and downed her glass amidst tipsy giggles. "Ah! Now you may have it..." she held out her empty goblet then.

"Thank you—"

"No, my love—I wish for more!"

"Oh, no, my Lady—I fear that we have both overdone it..." Dorotea chuckled as she eased the goblet easily from Lucrezia's relaxed hand.

"Is this what it would have been like to have a sister? I would have loved having a sister growing up..." Lucrezia sighed wistfully.

"I think I might have, although none of my friends did—they always fought over each other's suitors..."

"We...oh!" Lucrezia hiccuped, "Excuse me!" she laughed out loud. "We, Dorotea, would have fought over Cesare, in our unholy family..."

"Lucrezia!" But Dorotea's scandalized laughter had joined her friend's.

"What? We would have...although I would not have stood a chance with him with you about..." she said as she went for, and seized, the wine bottle on the table before them.

"I am no prude, dear Lucrezia, but this is dangerous territory we are embarking on now..." Dorotea said as she struggled to contain her own giggles—and wrest the bottle from Lucrezia's steely grip.

"Alright, then you should have been my very close cousin—cousins are allowed to enjoy each other, are they not? Cesare and I would never have fixated upon each other the way that we did—I would have been able to love my husband truly and he might even be alive, now..."

"Alive? Which husband?"

"My second husband—Alfonso the First."

Lucrezia thought about what she had just said; the two women looked at each other for a brief second and then broke out into hysterical laughter.

"This vintage is a strong one, my Lady," Dorotea said as her laughter subsided; she perused the bottle in her hand, "I must make sure not pull this one out for company ever again," she joked as she put the cork back in it.

"But I would adore more..." Lucrezia pouted.

"And what you need more, right now, is a good night's sleep...come on—to your bed..." Dorotea pulled her up into her supportive embrace. "Come on, with you..." she smiled sweetly at her.

Lucrezia was overcome with love for the woman; for all that she had done to help her and her brother; for her good will and sincere concern; unable to stop herself she gave in to the impulse to plant a sweet kiss on Dorotea's soft lips.

"Thank you, Dorotea, for everything; if I may ever return the favor, never hesitate to ask anything of me. And my husband be damned, you must let me host you at Ferrara, as often as you may be able to visit and promise me that we will see each other again."

"That is a promise, dear one," Dorotea smiled warmly at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Lucrezia bid her new friend farewell and headed back for Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week and three days following her return to Rome, Cesare received a missive from his sister, during a meeting one evening with his captains.

"Alright—the time is now—now that we have Giulio Orsini's promise to His Holiness regarding Urbino we shall fall back to Rimini—Micheletto, you will go to Pesaro."

"Yes, my Lord."

"If the rebels desire to be considered not, then they may reconquer Urbino with my blessing and hold it for me."

"Vitelli has made it known that he will return to your service if honest security will be provided," Micheletto informed him then.

"Has he, now?" Cesare gave an amused grunt. "They all still believe that my artillery is just a gimmick..."

"And not enough in number; that you rely on trickery because you do not have then men promised by King Louis nor enough of your own," Micheletto supplied further.

"Good. Get word to him to stop skulking about so that I may tell him officially that he and his men may advance upon Urbino and re-take possession for me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Permission to enter, Your Excellency," came a voice outside of the tent.

"Who goes there?"'

"Captain Corella's man, Excellency, with a missive for you from Rome."

Cesare's eyes shot to Micheletto's. "Enter."

"Very good—go. Now. All of you." Micheletto ordered the other other captains that he and Cesare had been in conference with away brusquely and then made to leave the tent, as well.

"No—stay brother. Please."

The soldier came in, handed over the parchment and left quickly; Cesare opened and devoured it voraciously upon his departure as Micheletto stood uncomfortably by; he took a deep breath and read the short letter again, this time, silent tears brimming in his eyes; his squeezed his eyes shut and nodded his head, as if there was a question upon the page that he was answering, then thrust the letter at his friend and stormed silently out of the tent.

Micheletto read it then, looking for a question or some directive, but found only a page full of drivel concerning one Colomba da Rieti, of whom Lucrezia had written a small diatribe against; he left the tent, committed the parchment to a pit fire just beyond it and watched it burn to ash, then left to find his friend.


	64. Forging Ahead

Micheletto found Cesare in a secluded spot near the edge of the encampment sitting atop his horse and staring up at a clear, cool April night sky; he rode up and stopped beside him but said nothing.

Cesare knew that he should been relieved: relieved that he and his sister had not brought a life into the world so surely and damnably cursed; relieved that she would not have to return to Ferrara under such a burden and to a marriage already fraught with unhappiness and strife. It was enough to have to wonder about Rodrigo, but at least he had the sure cover of paternity that was, most likely, quite legitimate. He hoped so for the boy's sake, anyway, although he would always love him and Giovanni as his very own.

He should have been relieved. But he was not.

Even though he knew nothing of the dreams and fantasies his sister had indulged herself in during her visit with Rodrigo, he had surely entertained many of his own after Lucrezia had told him that she would stay in Rome long enough to be sure of their possible predicament; daydreams that involved her, himself, the children, a ship—and a long voyage to the unknown and New World; a simpler life; a place where they could be free to love one another; impossible fantasies where there was no war.

But he knew better than that—war existed in every corner of the globe; yet how refreshing would it be to fight in one commanded by someone else, instead of being the one at the helm of his own seemingly unending one; where impending treachery and betrayal rose alongside the sun to greet him every damn day. He would have ever been anyone's fine soldier—he was not afraid to fight; he was not afraid to die; but he was most assuredly afraid to fail.

He was so weary of being in the position of being afraid to fail; he indulged himself secretly—for mere moments and only on his worst days—in the selfish wish that the burden was heaped squarely on someone else's shoulders instead of his own. The advent of a child that was surely his and Lucrezia's had made that wish a fervent one, and one that he could actually make come true, damn what it meant for everything he had done thus far—for Italy; for his father—for himself. And what slow progress he was making! Racing against time to meet his goal before his father was no more—the thing he had never spoken to with anyone else save Lucrezia, but wore on his nerves endlessly and every day.

He looked over a Micheletto atop his own horse, still silent; waiting yet not waiting; being what he had always so mercifully been—a true friend; his brother. He wanted to confide in him yet found his lips unable to give voice to all of the thoughts running through his head. How could he? To that man? Who had loved him unconditionally enough to accept all of his flaws; fought alongside him in every battle; saved his family from the threat of murder on countless occasions; a man he trusted with his own life—a man that he would die for without hesitation. How do you explain to such a man that all of the peril you've put him before means nothing to you anymore? That you are still unsure of your way? That you would see him free, as well, to live his own life as he pleased? Surely, deep-down within himself, Micheletto wanted the same for himself, didn't he? Even a soldier born desires to live long enough to see some peace in his life, does he not? Cesare was ashamed of himself suddenly that he had never had a conversation well-enough with the man to know the answer.

Cesare looked backed to the heavens with a hard roll of his eyes in disgust at himself. If only Juan had been more like Micheletto; or his own self; or their father; anyone, almost, other than himself. What a formidable trio they could have been; what progress they could have made, and sooner! He thought again of the real Juan, the dead Juan, still very much himself, who had come to him in a nightmare and scoffed at his notions of living a life of personal freedom in an unknown world as an unknown man for the sake of the love of his sister; of how he would laugh at him again to find him still giving thought to it, and more seriously than before. _"I knew you had it in you to be me—go ahead and fail our father..."_

Cesare gulped hard as he fought back angry, frustrated tears; willed himself not to put his hand to his throbbing temple; struggled to keep breathing normally even though his lungs would have relished relief in the form of his tormented outcry; his mouth dropped open on its own, for he was suffocating and his brain would not allow it, even though his soul was lost and cared nothing, at that moment, about the amenity of breathing.

Beside him Micheletto, still, said nothing. He knew Cesare well-enough to know that the man was still chafing under the expectations of his father and the desire to be his own man, living a life of his own chosen will, for every man must have that belief. He had delivered himself from that particular problem, where his own father had been concerned, and relieved himself happily from the burden of the man's expectations, desires—and curses—early in his life.

Yes, some fathers were for killing. At least his surely had been.

Micheletto knew, unflinchingly, that he was a better man for having done so. He knew that Cesare was still working through his burden; he and his sister's lives were careening ahead of them, and he had to give them both credit for forging ahead even though their hearts desired other realities.

There were only two women on earth he truly loved. Lesser women would have crumbled into a heap and remained there, as his mother or Lucrezia could have surely done based on the circumstances of their lives—yet and neither one of them ever had; had never considered such a thing the final option. They were two of the strongest women he had ever known. His mother had given him life and saved his life at the risk of her own; her whole essence had taught him the definition of the word 'bravery'. Lucrezia had been the picture of bravery, as well, bearing yet another heartbreak in sending her baby off to his own life without her, and moving onward to her own. Her strength in that matter had fortified Cesare's, after he'd heard Micheletto's account of it, but this last news had drawn some if it away.

Well, he was human, after all; a man. Women were allowed to show their despair, although Lucrezia had fought against hers tooth and nail. No, A man had to sit on top of his horse and choke back the night and all of his disappointments silently; stoically; and go on as if there were never any inner-doubts regarding his own purpose in the world; or that he possessed such weak things as feelings, especially any that could be hurt, for there was no room in the world for weak men.

"If there are no other orders, my Lord, then I am off to Pesaro."

Cesare came slowly back to himself at the sound of his friend's voice; he snapped his mouth shut after he inhaled a breath full of the restorative beauty of that crisp Italian night, took it deeply into his lungs and held it, letting it and the realization of his friend's statement wash through him; for Micheletto had confirmed that his love was still evident and unshakable; that he would still do anything for him and without judgment; that fact, as tangible as the air he was breathing again, helped to revive him from his melancholy.

"No, Captain, there are no other orders," Cesare said simply; he tugged at the reins on his horse, his beauty Luis, and commanded him back to camp, as his brother, Micheletto, galloped steadfastly away with him, ever at his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was her last night in Rome. Lucrezia was sharing her last private hours with her mother, father and Giovanni at Vannozza's palazzo in her room before she put her son to bed for the night.

Rodrigo had been happily surprised and amazed that his daughter had returned from Venice in such fine spirits, and with a happier resolve to return to her husband.

"Have you two had words, then? Whatever little spat that occurred between you has been rectified, yes?" he asked her pleasantly enough.

"There was never a 'spat' between us," Lucrezia lied, "and there have been no words necessary to address between us, please, father. I have benefited greatly from my respite here with Giovanni—thank you both so much," she smiled sweetly at both of her parents. "I am anxious to introduce Giovanni to Ferrara, and as you have both reminded me on so many occasions, return to my duties there; I am more than ready to attend to them—and to my husband, as well."

"Well, as relieved as I may be to hear if from your lips, I hazard that our dear Alfonso will be most ecstatic upon your return home," Rodrigo grinned happily back at her.

"Amen to that," Vannozza said through her own sly smile as she bounced Giovanni playfully upon her knee.

Lucrezia turned away from them and busied herself with the packing of one of her cassones; she lamented that she could not confide in them; could not tell them the truth regarding her trip away; would never be able to tell them of her difficulties in bonding with little Rodrigo; no, they would be spared from that most-crushing unburdening. Nor would she be honoring Miracella's fervent request to have a portrait of herself to sent along for Rodrigo to remember her by; she had meant what she said about allowing her son his life, and her desire to nurture him—as much as it was possible to do from afar—until he was a man grown and free to let her love him; she fully expected the day to come to pass where she was an old, happy matron, able to lavish her love upon all of her children and grandchildren, and bask in the glory of theirs in return; it was what she was going to live for. In the meantime she was going to remember that she had friends, old and new; friendships that she intended to foster by hosting and visiting with them as often as possible.

She'd had plenty of time on her ride back from Venice to resolve within herself that she and Alfonso would tolerate each other; that when she could fully stomach the idea she would lay with him and make old Ercole happy, at least, by providing an heir. Alfonso could have all the whores he wanted, and thank God for them, for it would be her children and her friends that she would ever rely upon to sustain her; and her happiness would be complete when Cesare had attained all that he was striving to accomplish for himself.

The next morning Lucrezia was ready to depart.

"Thank you both for this—my love for you both knows no earthly bounds..." Lucrezia said as she gave them each a kiss and and a strong, lingering hug.

"Oh, my love—of course..." Vannozza smiled through her happy tears.

"Mother, when God blesses me to bring your next grandchild into this world you must promise that you will come to me straightaway upon the news and be there to welcome our child to the world—you will come when I send for you?"

"Nothing would stop me, my love."

"Holy Father..."

"Darling daughter—all of Our blessings and wishes for your continued happiness and that of your new family. You shall ever reside in Our heart, you know this." He kissed her cheek again.

"I do, Holy Father. And you shall be in my prayers every day."

"Thank you, daughter."

Rodrigo gave a last hug and kiss to Giovanni and then helped them both up into their carriage.

And so it was, with a happier heart than Rodrigo or Vannozza had ever dared to think she could truly possess, that Lucrezia bid her final and true farewell to them and to Rome, and headed back to begin her life, in earnest, in Ferrara.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia arrived late in the night amidst fireworks and the herald of trumpets from the battlements as the citizenry cheered her return to Ferrara; as she and her sleeping boy were assisted from her carriage by Ercole and Alfonso she was happy to spy Isabella waiting for her with open arms.

"Father-in-law—I have missed you..." she gave him a happy kiss upon his cheek.

"Pope Lucrezia! My love, what a happy and blessed day it is that we finally have you back!" Ercole beamed at her.

Lucrezia could not suppress the blush of her cheeks through her amused smile.

"And still ever humble! Ah, dear girl, welcome home..." he chuckled at her.

She looked over at Alfonso then through her fading smile. "Husband..."

"Wife. Welcome home," he said dryly as he stepped aside to clear the way for her passage.

_Good, I don't want to suffer a kiss upon you, either..._ she harrumphed silently.

"Sister!" It was Isabella coming in to hug her.

"Sister! This is a most lovely surprise—please tell me that Livia is ever well, and that you have brought all of the children...and are here to stay a long while?"

"She is, I have, and I am! Thank you, my angel, for inquiring about our darling Livia..." Isabella put an arm around her sister-in-law, "We are all here to welcome this little one to court and to his new family, my love," Isabella said and then placed a loving kiss upon Lucrezia's cheek. "Come see the nursery—filled with sleeping babes and awaiting this one, yes?"

"Oh, yes..."

"And even... _more_...permanent occupants, I hazard to say..." Ercole said impishly under his breath at no one in particular.

"Father, please do give it a rest, will you?" Alfonso grumbled.

Ercole only laughed at his son as they all headed into the castle.

"My Lady! It is so good to have you back home!"

"Lucia! Thank, you my love, it is good to be back home."

Lucrezia was amazed to find that her feelings were sincere; she had taken comfort in the fact that Ercole would be happy to see her again, but she had no idea that Alfonso's ire at her would be further discounted by the presence of her loving sister-in-law; it was a most happy surprise.

"Mind her bags, would you please, Lucia?" Isabella instructed her after she had received Lucrezia's greeting kiss upon the cheek.

"Yes, my Lady, right away..." Lucia scurried away to the carriage.

Lucrezia was a bit taken aback at Isabella's terseness towards the girl; Ercole seemed to notice nothing out of the ordinary, but Alfonso just gave her a look, and then a stiff bow before he left them all silently. _Ah, so that's it. Well, so be it, Alfonso, I truly do not care._

After Giovanni was settled in his crib and the other children had all been checked on, the ladies joined Ercole for refreshments in the Government Room.

"Where is that brother of mine?" Isabella asked as she and Lucrezia took their seats before waiting goblets of wine.

"Oh...he's about..." Ercole chuckled. "Aren't you tired, my love? We would certainly understand if you'd like to get to bed, eh?" Ercole asked Lucrezia.

"I'm too excited at being home to do that just yet, dear Duke...this..." she took hold of Isabella's free hand, "is simply too wonderful a surprise."

Just then Alfonso entered the room.

"Ah! There he is! All is well?"

"All is well, father."

"Very good. So, Pope Lucrezia—please tell us of your exploits in Rome, eh?" They all chuckled except for Alfonso, who was standing beside the hearth looking bored and more than unimpressed.

"I'm afraid that there are no great exploits to report, my dear Duke, my time serving the interests of His Holiness upon the Papal Throne were more than uneventful; I did mange a trip to Venice after his return—"

"What? To Venice, you say? Well, we had not heard about that! What was the occasion, my love?" Ercole asked through an intrigued lift of his eyebrows at her.

"Why, to see the Lady Carracciuola—Isabella, you must go with me when I visit again, for the Lady and Duchess Elisabetta wish to host us both in Urbino at our earliest convenience."

"Yes, the Duchess wrote to me and told me that she and Dorotea had both extended their invitations to you after the wedding! I'm so glad that you had the opportunity to visit—yes, you may plan on the two of us going together, Lucrezia."

By the hearth Alfonso could feel the bile rising up from his stomach and threatening to invade his throat; still he remained silent. Lady Dorotea Carracciuola, indeed, he groused to himself. _What in possible hell was that all about? I'm sure that I will extract it from her..._ "I'm off to bed, then. Goodnight, family." Alfonso left them amidst their cheerful good-nights and to their happy conversation.

"Someone else has missed you, my love—" Ercole informed her then; he gave a sharp whistle and to Lucrezia's delight Princess came bounding into the room, her tail wagging so excitedly that she feared that it would detach from the dog's body and sail clear off into the heavens.

"Oh! Oh! My darling girl! And I missed you, too..." Lucrezia sprang up from the settee and hugged the sweet dog about her neck. "Oh...please do calm yourself...oh, you sweet thing—I shall not do that to you again..."

"Only thing that helped her to endure, my love, was the arrival of the children..." Ercole smiled down at them both.

"Giovanni is going to love you so..." she cooed at the dog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia spent several more hours with Ercole and Isabella before she tore herself away to go to bed. With Princess at her side she checked on her sleeping babe one more time and then retired to her apartment; upon entering it she was not completely surprised to find her dour husband waiting for her, commanding angry possession of an arm chair.

"Out!" he barked at the dog, who turned tail and left the room before Lucrezia could close the door.

"How dare you! She's my dog..."

"She was my dog before she was yours," he reminded her quietly with a sneer upon his face.

"What do you want, Alfonso? It's late and I'm tired..."

"You have been emboldened by your trip away, hmm? By your sham occupation of the Papal Throne, hmm? Do you really think you are any better than the bitch that just went scurrying out of this room? You are not. And you could still stand to learn a thing or two from her example."

Lucrezia stood taller before him and leveled a steely glare at him. "You wish."

"You must have enjoyed your rendezvous with Cesare, hmm?"

Lucrezia crossed her arms angrily about herself but said nothing.

"DIDN'T YOU!" he shouted at her.

"It never matters what I say—think what you like, Alfonso—I DO NOT CARE!" she shouted back at him.

"No, it does not matter what you say, for you are a liar. So, then—Rome wasn't enough? You had to carry on your affair in Venice? If you cannot beat them then join them, is that it? You fuck brothers and women, now? Which of you will bear his next bastard first, hmm?"

Lucrezia glowered at him; as much as she would have welcomed her brother's child in her womb the one happy thing she could look forward to was banishing that smug, damning look on Alfonso's face when no child materialized in the months ahead—not even the hint of a child; as she advanced upon him he stood up from the chair to face her.

"Your family does so enjoy the elaborate contests of whores, do they not?" he accused her through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yes husband; there were orgies every night—all over Italy! When my belly swells with the next heir to the duchy of Ferrara I will have no Godly idea who his true father may be—why, you think Cesare was the only one that the lady and I... _fucked?_ And do call in my musical surrogate, now, for certainly you would not be averse to watching me do the same with him, right this moment, before your very eyes! You may invite ALL of your favorite whores to watch with you, I would greatly enjoy that, husband, hmm? You may call in Lucia first, yes?" she hissed at him.

"Be careful what you ask for, slattern. And if even one pound upon your body shows evidence of yet another bastard growing within your defiled body then I will have you walled up within the tower, shackled to the stones where you may die screaming as you starve to death..."

Lucrezia only laughed at him.

"I told you never to laugh at me! It is time to teach you a lesson that you will not soon forget..." Alfonso rushed her and pushed her violently in the direction of her bed; outside the door Princess began bark viciously and scratch desperately upon it.

"You are causing a scene, my Lord—soon the whole castle will come running..." Lucrezia said calmly as she caught her footing.

"Damn that dog, and damn YOU!" He pushed her again until she had fallen in a heap upon the bed, then pinned her down; her foul laughter greeted his ears again.

"Not a good idea, husband—rape me now and my next child could be yours—" she taunted him.

"TO HELL WITH YOU, LUCREZIA BORGIA!" he raged at her.

"Get off of me!" Lucrezia squirmed easily from underneath him, scrambled up from the bed and went to the door to let Princess in; once inside the room the dog was in a quandary as to what to do and simply turned around in circles, daring to direct her barks of complaint at Alfonso. "Lay another hand on me and I'm certain that _your_ dog will attack you...get out of my room, Alfonso," Lucrezia ordered him angrily.

Alfonso collected himself, shooting daggers with his eyes at the pair of them. "QUIET, Princess!"

To his disgust the dog ignored him and continued to bark at him. "This is not over, Lucrezia..."

"It is over tonight, Alfonso." Lucrezia went to the door and held it wider open for him to leave, then slammed it loudly shut when at last he was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Lucrezia had fully expected him to do, Alfonso made himself scarce about the castle in the following days and she found herself free to enjoy her son, her sister-in-law and her nieces and nephews in peace; she had no fear of being accosted by him again and he knew it; and if it was her fear that made him feel like a man then she was happy to know that his shame at being defeated in that endeavor had been made manifest. To hell, indeed, she sniffed in disgust every time she thought of his foul words at her. He would inhabit the place long before she ever would, she vowed to herself.

She had not lain eyes on Cardinal Bembo nor had she inquired of him since her return. Did he already know of her triumph over her husband? He knew everything else, she'd found out in her past experiences with him; surely he was doing the proper thing and simply keeping his respectful distance, which she greatly appreciated.

And while she continued to settle into her new life in Ferrara, separate but concurrent with the fractious terms of the relationship between herself and her husband, her brother, in Imola was forging ahead with his life, as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of summer that year, Vitellozzo Vitelli had seized Castel Durante in Urbino, and Gian Paolo Baglioni had seized Cagli in Perugia. Unknown to all at the time, however, another drama began to play out in San Leone, at the fortress recently acquired there by Pope Alexander.

The keep was one of two that had not yet been fully confiscated by Cesare; it was well-provisioned and by all accounts, impregnable; invigorated by the return of Vitelli and Baglioni's influence in Urbino, a force of peasants organized to defend the fortress from Cesare Borgia's impending seizure, for the Duke of Urbino was still well-adored by his subjects.

On a cold, quiet, moonless night, the plan was put into action.

"Brizio, the men are ready..."

"Very good, Marzio—you are sure that the timber cannot be hoisted?"

"There are two hundred more bold souls here, able and willing to enjoin your league; again I say to you—the men—and the timber—are secured and ready."

"Then we take back this keep for my master, and purge this Borgia menace from our door! To the drawbridge! Now!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it was that a small group of brave souls fended Cesare's small army off and thus, held the fortress against him. Jubilant word spread throughout the towns and in less than a week had gotten to the ears of the other rebels; they convened a meeting where it was decided that they could easily effect defeat, at last; they openly proclaimed their revolt against the common enemy—Cesare Borgia.

"We must continue to placate him, brothers—Vitelli, send word that the we will surrender at Sinigaglia," Baglioni suggested then.

"But surely he has heard of the uprising, the same as we have..." said Bentivoglio.

"I think not," Cardinal della Rovere smiled broadly at the group assembled in the room, "he still laments the broken promise of King Louis to send more troops; he sleeps all day and is drunk all night—his captains are under his most-disjointed command and Captain Corella is not even in Imola—his abominable father only raised a pittance on his last campaign away seeking more funds; his esteemed military engineer is reduced to scribbling fantastic, yet incomplete renderings of war machines that will never be built—they only have one that has ever been seen by anyone's eyes..."

"But it was effective—monstrously so, I have heard..." Paolo Orsini spoke up then.

"One...brothers. Now is the time, we must not waste another minute. Are we in agreement? And if so, sign this Treaty of Alliance whereby we swear to resist whether we are attacked severally or all together." della Rovere produced the treaty that had been drafted months before but that they had been forced to abandon.

"Again, with this 'we' business..." Gian Paolo Baglioni grumbled at the cardinal.

"Yes, 'we', Baglioni; for when I am Pope, you will surely reap the benefits of this glorious day and as a rightfully-restored Son of Rome. I promise that to you all."

The men all signed the treaty and then sent Ugo di Cardona to Imola to arrange the meeting with Cesare in Sinigaglia.


	65. A Change In The Game

Cesare was in a meeting with Gasparo Sanseverino, Ranieri della Sassetta, Francesco de Luna and Lodovico Pico della Mirandola late on a mild August night when Ugo di Cardona arrived with word from Vitellozzo Vitelli; when di Cardona was done with his report of the meeting in Ancona Cesare smiled.

"So that's where della Rovere has been hiding out, hmm? Plotting his takeover of the Papal Throne and the demise of my family..."

"Yes, Excellency."

"It's good to know that our careful dispatches to Florence and Rome have been so magnificently effective; so close we are, yet none of them have thought, even once, to gather any proper intelligence about the goings-on here—drunk all night, am I? Disjointed command?" Cesare let out a little snort of disgust. "It has almost been disappointing, how gullible they are...and this skirmish in San Leone—I can certainly give credit where credit is due, but such a small victory that sets them so firmly back to their truest and most-treacherous intent..." Cesare looked around the tent at his Captains, all of them amused, as well.

"Only because they put entirely too much stock in their perceived notions of the withdrawal of King Louis' favor, and that it has crushed you," di Cardona ventured.

"Indeed. And what of Andrea Doria?"

"The word is that he claims that he will surrender to you peacefully..."

"I would be interested to know what Giovanna da Montefeltre has to say about that..." Cesare harrumphed.

di Cardona said nothing as he waited for his next orders.

"Tell them, Ugo, to make their...arrangements...hmm? And that when they are ready to...receive me...I will come."

"Yes, Excellency, right away."

"Be careful, Ugo."

"I will, Excellency," di Cardona assured him.

"Until Sinigaglia, then."

"Yes, Excellency." With that di Cardona gave a bow at Cesare, then his Captains, and made haste away.

"The time is drawing near, at last, Captains; Gasparo—"

"Yes, Excellency?"

"Go to da Vinci and check on his progress with the new war wagon—he should be about done with it..."

"Yes, Excellency."

"When the time is at hand I want them flanking the rear of our emboldened insurgents so that they will be properly terrorized."

"Yes, Excellency, that will be the certain response," Sanseverino smiled broadly.

"Ranieri, you will be in charge of the canon upon our trip away to Sinigaglia..."

"Yes, Excellency," della Sassetta answered him excitedly. "The new catapults are most magnificent, as well—"

"That they are...but we will not need all of them; bring only four, and a supply of da Vinci's poison pellets—not too many, and make sure you follow his instructions—to the letter—regarding their handling, hmm?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"Lodvico, you ride to Rimini and apprise dei Pazzi and Pallavicini of this latest development."

"Yes, Excellency," Pico della Mirandola gave a bow at him, "I am on my way now." The man smiled at the other Captains and then made to away.

"A moment, Lodovico," Cesare stopped him. "Francesco—you are in charge here until I return from Pesaro—I must speak with Captain Corella personally."

"Yes, Excellency," de Luna bowed at him.

"Alright then—we all convene again here by the end of the week..." Cesare looked around the tent at each man for their affirmations and received them, then gave them each a final nod before they all dispersed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Ferrara Lucrezia had met her goal; as the months passed she had borne no signs of being with child and Alfonso had, indeed, been forced to abandon that particular condemnation of her. Of course, he had not abandoned his suspicion that she and Cesare had lain together while she was in Rome, and attributed her escape from the outcome of pregnancy to sheer luck only.

In the meantime, his father continued to pressure him, jovially but ever vocally, for an heir. Alfonso responded to that pressure as he did all other things that caused him displeasure at that point in his life—by being only the ghost of a presence at Castello Estense, which had suited Lucrezia equally well. Taken up with politics, the consternating presence of his brother Giulio, and his own nocturnal pleasures, it was easy to forget, most of the time, that he was married at all.

As for Lucrezia, in spite of the contentious relationship she endured with her husband she found that her happiness, although not complete, was not absent from her life. As ever, her heart was still broken over Rodrigo. She had appointed herself a small office, with Ercole's happy blessing, which had a window that looked out over the Loggia of Oranges, and had made it her most-cherished habit to lock herself away in it at the end of each month to write her letter to Rodrigo. In it she would document all of the things she thought his older eyes, and heart, might find interesting to read: her wishes for him that he was well and happy; stories of his brother, who still remembered him; descriptions of Ferrara and the castle, which she prayed that he might visit someday; and the general events that had comprised her days in that month.

She had also found her happiness in Giovanni, who had been welcomed at court and was well-loved by all. Well, almost all, but thank God that one was almost never about. And much to her surprise, and Ercole's sure delight, Giovanni had taken quite a liking to Cardinal Bembo's lute during one summer evening performance and could not be convinced to part with it; his delight in the exploration of it and the sounds that it produced as he played at the strings made it his most cherished possession; Giovanni's rapt and serious attention at Bembo as he gave his playful instruction prompted Ercole to declare that the boy must have lessons in earnest.

"He is too young, dear Duke, surely," Lucrezia had chuckled her disagreement at her father-in-law.

"Ah, my Lady, one is never too young to be an artiste—look at him! He is studying already!" he exclaimed as he clapped his delight at the boy.

And so Giovanni was given beginning lessons by Bembo and flourished even more as a result of his expert and friendly tutelage.

And then there was Cardinal Bembo, who had settled himself quite nicely where she was concerned, and had ever remained her true friend by not pressing his passions upon her, even though an occasional and surreptitious gleam in his smiling eyes proved that they had not abated.

And while she had neither been able to visit or yet receive them, for quite individual reasons, she corresponded regularly with her mother, who kept her apprised of all things Borgia; Miracella, who had found that she could sketch people, as well as her clothing designs, and began to send sketches of Rodrigo along with her own letters; La Bella, who was still trying for a child with her husband; Pietra di Benedetti, who was expecting her first child in the spring of the following year; her sister-in-law, Isabella, who ignored her letters no more; and Lady Dorotea Carracciuola, who was expecting her babe in October and had promised to come visit for Christmas.

And, of course, there was ever Cesare, whom she prayed for daily, to a God he did not even believe in, that he would find safety always, and success as soon as the Lord saw fit to grace him with it.

Never again could she forget him when they were apart; he was her first thought upon waking and the last before she closed her eyes to the night; and it would be, then and forever, a thing far beyond her control.

And so in Ferrara, summer turned to fall; and although there was a definite and underlying current of tension between Lucrezia and Alfonso, Castello Estense had still managed, generally, to fall into a peaceful and pleasant rhythm for all of its inhabitants.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One September evening Alfonso was preparing to go and seek the usual respite in the arms of his favorite woman, for he'd had a trying day with Giulio over a dispute between Giulio and Ippolito over Don Rainaldo Sassuolo.

"Just a minute, Alfonso, a word with you..." Giulio approached him with urgent, angry footsteps.

Alfonso was just putting on his cloak to ward off the brisk night chill; he groaned his displeasure loudly as he turned to face his half-brother. "What is it now, Giulio? We've had enough words today and I've an appointment."

"Is that what it's called these days? And how is your most illustrious whore?" Giulio sniffed his disgust at Alfonso.

"Go away from me, Giulio, before I crack my sword against your empty skull."

The two men stared each other down, both knowing that it was a true desire, but more than an empty threat.

Giulio ignored the comment but narrowed his eyes at his half-brother. "I am tired of Ippolito interfering in my life, Alfonso; first Angela and now Don Rainaldo..."

At the utterance of Angela's name Alfonso bristled inwardly; he had been trying to come up with a good reason to have Giulio sent away again from Ferrara, but with Ferrante squarely exiled still in Modena there was nothing that could be cooked-up; and Ippolito wasn't helping, antagonizing Giulio, even from far away Rome, in ways that their father would surely not defend if he knew about them. "You need to take up your ire with Don Rainaldo, Giulio, he's your musician, after all."

"And I would if I could find him—you must intercede and insist that Ippolito return the man to me! I mean really, what is that all about, anyway? Is Ippolito a sodomite now? Because if he isn't he is simply doing what he has always done—trying to keep me from any happiness here simply because he feels that I have no right to anything!"

"Again I say—take it up with Don Rainaldo, Giulio...he could answer that question better than I ever could," Alfonso responded coldly.

"And I told you that the man is not to be found here in Ferrara. No, I think that I shall take it up with father, then." Giulio shot back at him.

"How do you even know that Ippolito has anything to do with his absence?"

"Because he's done it before...lured the man away on a ruse; with each endeavor against me Ippolito grows bolder and more outrageous—you have influence with him and could easily put a stop to it—that is, if you wish for me to keep father out of it."

_Ah...so you've finally learned to play the game, little brother_ , Alfonso realized disgustedly. "Alright, Giulio...you win this one. It shall be my first order of business in the morning—does that suit?"

"It suits. I'll thank you when this affront has been successfully resolved." Giulio stormed away from him.

Alfonso was suddenly very weary; he should have been on his way to the welcoming arms of his Chiara, but suddenly he was simply drained of spirit and desire; and if he didn't go to her then where would he go? Even in his apartment, so far away from Lucrezia's, he was unable to find his respite. He became aware then of the far off sound of a lute; it was not a song that he was hearing, just the soothing strumming of a simple chord and then suddenly a happy, childish giggle, echoing down the hall and infectious enough to bring a smile to his face. He went to investigate.

He found his father, presently, in the Small Chamber of Games, sitting upon the Persian rug before the tiny stage there, being entertained by Giovanni.

"He's actually quite good, hmm?" Alfonso smiled at his father genuinely when his father looked up and saw him standing at entryway.

"Just now finding that out, are you?" Ercole noted Alfonso's cloak draped over his arm. "Going out, then?"

"No." Alfonso's smile faded as he gave his father his simple answer.

"Hmm." Ercole turned his attention back to the boy, who had become shy upon Alfonso's presence.

"No, Giovanni—please continue to play for _Nonno_ , hmm? I so liked your song..." Alfonso requested of him gently; he draped his cloak over a bench against the wall and then took a slow stride over to the floor where they were both sitting together.

Giovanni gave a perplexed look at Ercole.

"Go ahead, my love—that's only my own baby, hmm? Play for us again, yes?" Ercole cooed at him.

Giovanni put a shy, questioning finger to his mouth.

"What was that note, then? Can you teach it to me?" Alfonso knelt down, gently took hold of the boy's free hand and guided it to a string. "Hmm? Was it like this?" he plucked at the string, then looked at Ercole. "No—it was much finer than that, wasn't it, _Nonno_?" He looked back at the boy, with a genuine smile upon his face. "Giovanni, you must teach it to me..." he coaxed him.

"Maybe it was like this..." Ercole plucked at a string then, his face screwed-up in comical confusion.

"No!" Giovanni giggled. "Put you hand..." Giovanni took Ercole's hand and very precisely placed his fingers on the strings, "zis way..."

"You mean like this?"

"Yes..." the boy said seriously. "Stum now..." he ordered him.

Ercole did as instructed and produced the sound Giovanni was looking for.

"Yes!" he giggled excitedly, which set both men to chuckling. "Now you..." Giovanni did the same with Alfonso's hand. "Now..."

"Now?"

"Yes...stum it..." Again, the boy was very concentrated and serious in his direction; again, the desired sound brought his happy laughter. At that moment Lucrezia appeared in the entryway, more than astonished at the sight before her, and speechless.

"Mama! Pay!" Giovanni called out his order excitedly.

"Well...I shall try, Giovanni, but you are so much better than mama..." She went to join them on the rug, and knelt down in the vacant space between Giovanni and Alfonso; she felt more than awkward, for she had been through another stretch of time where she hadn't lain eyes on her husband in weeks; but soon they were all concentrating on Giovanni, and in several unguarded moments Lucrezia and Alfonso shared genuine smiles at each other as Ercole looked upon them with his own approving one.

"Ah, Giovanni—lovely thing, this..." the old Duke said as he rose up abruptly, then scooped the boy and the lute up from the floor, "...it goes wherever we go, eh? Cook made a batch of macaroons today that I must go and have more of—come with me, little one?"

"Yes!" The boy nodded his head vigorously.

"Oh, dear Ercole, it is late for macaroons—I shall never get him to sleep," Lucrezia protested gently.

"Did I say macaroons? I meant pears," Ercole winked at Giovanni. "And don't you worry about this one—I shall put him to bed tonight, eh? Come, Giovanni, to the kitchen we go!"

"But...oh..." she tried to stop him as she rose up from the floor; but Ercole had quickly escaped her; all that she and Alfonso could hear then were Ercole's quick footsteps and Giovanni's fading giggles as they echoed back at them from the hall.

Alfonso rose up from the floor then. "Lucrezia? Lucrezia..."

Lucrezia turned away from where her son and father-in-law had disappeared and faced her husband, looking as awkward and uneasy as she felt.

Alfonso dared to reach out and take one of her hands into his own. "Lucrezia...we must talk."


	66. Where Our Hearts Are Concerned

"He so very badly wants one of those from us..." Alfonso said softly at her, a faint smile upon his face.

"Yes, I know. I would endeavor to to please him, if I could."

"Would you endeavor to please me, as well, Lucrezia?"

Lucrezia gave Alfonso a sad look. "If I could, Alfonso...but I don't think that is a thing that is possible."

They stood there looking sadly at each other for a long moment until Lucrezia could take no more; she turned and made to go away from him but Alfonso reached out again for her hand and stilled her.

"Will you honor me by coming with me to my apartment, my Lady? We really must speak, and in private."

"Alfonso..."

"Please? I promise to keep my honor; we must come to a new understanding, Lucrezia."

"Alfonso...I...I really should go and relieve your father of Giovanni..."

"My father loves Giovanni and is a happier old man because he is here—he requires no such relief at this moment, I assure you. Come with me, Lucrezia?" Alfonso took a step away and pulled her gently along.

Lucrezia gave a little nod; Alfonso linked his arm through hers then, to have her walk beside him as he made the way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon Lucrezia found herself being ushered into the salon of his apartment.

"Please...have a seat, Lucrezia."

Lucrezia took her seat on his sumptuous couch; Alfonso took his seat beside her and they faced each other.

"So...this is the suite that you shared with your beloved Anna," Lucrezia said as she avoided his gaze and looked about the room. "I do not begrudge your intent to maintain its sanctity, Alfonso; I do thank you for your grace in allowing me to visit it."

"I would like for you to do more than just visit it, Lucrezia."

"I don't see how you can possibly mean that, Alfonso...after all of these hard, distant months between us..."

"But I do, Lucrezia; I mean it honestly."

"We had a lovely moment downstairs, with your father and Giovanni; I do appreciate your tolerance of my son—"

"He has more regard from me, Lucrezia, than just my tolerance; he is a beautiful wonder—like his mother."

"That is most kind of you, Alfonso, I—"

"I'm sure..." he stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips, "that you have construed, and understandably so, that I want nothing to do with him, but that is simply untrue. I have been so angry, Lucrezia, at you and my own self, equally; as such it has not been my desire to level any such anger, especially at one so undeserving of it, for a child must never suffer the misplaced anger of embattled adults. And Giovanni is usually so tied to you, when he is not delighting my father or others here at court...that is the only other reason I have kept my distance from him; this was the first opportunity that I've had to engage with him and it hurt my heart that his first inclination was to shy away from me. He is a wonder and a joy, and do I hope that tonight I have made the first small step toward gaining his trust and making myself a friend to him... a start, at least."

"That is most kind of you Alfonso, and I greatly appreciate your considerations toward him."

"I just wanted to assure you that he is ever wanted here...as are you, Lucrezia."

"Am I? Really?"

"Yes...you are. Do you remember your first visit here? The night that we shared our first kiss?"

"I do—I meant that kiss, Alfonso; I _would_ endeavor to mean it again, if you would let me..."

"I would let you."

"It would take time, Alfonso..." Lucrezia's tone was careful, her eyes upon him still sad.

"Of course it would."

"Am I to take this to mean that the night before our wedding—"

"Is no longer at issue," Alfonso cut her off.

Lucrezia gave him an unsure look.

"After all of this time, Lucrezia, and in hindsight, I am inclined to believe that you were telling me the truth when you said that you did not have Cesare that night; I deeply regret that I did not trust your word then, and do humbly apologize for it."

Lucrezia gave a heavy sigh of relief, and was about to speak.

"But you did have him upon your return to Rome—or tell me honestly that you did not."

Lucrezia hung her head for a moment and then looked back upon her husband with resolute eyes. "I have never been anything but honest with you, Alfonso. And yes, I did."

Alfonso closed his eyes hard shut and gave a heavy sigh at her as the confirmation of his sure suspicion washed through his soul. "I'm the cause of all of this, then; I drove you back to him..."

"No, Alfonso, no...I am the cause of all of this; I would never be able to successfully explain to you my frame of mind or the reasons I sought my brother out that night, and you would only view them as excuses, anyway, which they are not intended to be; no, it is because of my intent that night that this wedge between us so magnificently and abominably exists, in the first place; I appreciate that you would endeavor to apologize to me...but even as we have both made a sure success of this alliance, I am the one, solely, responsible for the failure of our marriage."

"But is it a failure, Lucrezia? Truly? Can we not salvage it? Should we not try?"

Lucrezia looked away from him.

"No...don't look away..." Alfonso put a hand to her chin and gently forced her to face him even though her eyes sought out the heavens in complete despair.

"Lucrezia..."

Still she avoided his gaze.

"I do owe you an apology, Lucrezia—I am only a man, after all, a jealous man; and I seek not to excuse away my behavior, either, for I have treated you heinously since our wedding and there is nothing that can excuse it.

"You may not think it, and I know it has been more than difficult, but I _do_ appreciate your honesty, Lucrezia; I'm sure that, to you, it appears to have given you no positive gain, but that is so far from the truth. I'm just so sorry that I let my baser feelings over-rule the sense that I actually do possess—it was just too much for me, that night, you see, to see you coming from his rooms; imagining the things that I was imagining in my head; you told me the truth but I simply could not hear it, and I am so utterly sorry for that...would you please look at me?"

Lucrezia's sorrowful eyes met his hopeful ones then. "Again I say, my Lord...we...we had a lovely moment downstairs, and we have both been moved...but...but—"

"And we can have more of them Lucrezia...more lovely moments...and as genuine as the one we shared downstairs...as the one we shared that night here in the tower..."

"Really? Or does your magnanimous nature now stem mainly from the realization that I have not produced my brother's sure bastard?"

The hurt look on Alfonso's face was immediate, but slowly turned angry. "That is cruel, Lucrezia, and most unfair—"

"But true, Alfonso; how am I to believe you, now? You assured me at our betrothal that you understood my dilemma with my brother, but what a rage you went into as soon as you felt that you had reason for it! And did you? No! Deep down in your heart you knew that I was not lying, for why would someone reveal such an abominable truth about herself and then be so stupid as to lie to your face in such a manner? Lying to you had not then, or has of yet, been my record with you!" Lucrezia rose up angrily from the couch and backed away from him. "And I am to believe now that my honesty...the affirmation of my worst possible transgression against you...will not cause your rage to seep through these 'lovely moments' you claim that you wish for us to have, based on one smile or two that you have shared with my son?"

"Lucrezia!"

"No, Alfonso..."

"And so I have affirmation of that which I feared and knew in my gut to be true when you returned from Rome—did I lay a hand on you?"

"What a short memory you have, Alfonso—"

"Short memory?"

"Yes! Quite! Did your own dog not turn on for your most egregious behavior against me upon the first night of my return from Rome?"

As Alfonso thought back to that night his face went red. "I am sorry! Truly, I am, Lucrezia, but again I say, and not as an excuse but simply a fact—I AM A MAN! With feelings! A heart! I am a man who is not without his faults; but I endeavor to love you, Lucrezia, and be loved by you; I have loved you from the first moment I laid eyes upon you...contrary to what you may believe, and in spite of everything, that has not changed!

"I know better, now, than to try and push Cesare out of your heart; or to try and wait him out, hoping that time and distance will ease him out of it in my stead...and cause you to look upon me with different and more loving eyes. It is not possible. But would you—could you—try to allow me even a little space within it?"

"Ah...hearts...hearts that must allow space to be shared with other inhabitants..." Lucrezia murmured wryly under her breath.

"What?"

"For you must do the same, Alfonso; you say that you have loved me from the first, yet I am not the first, for that was your dear Anna; and I am not your only, for there is your—Chiara? I believe her name is?"

Alfonso opened his mouth to speak but Lucrezia gave him a warning nod. "She has given you solace and all of her regard in all of this time since your wife has passed; you see her exclusively, I have heard; have arranged quite a lovely stipend for her, as well—you have feelings for her, do you not? Much less business-like than our own arrangement, hmm?"

"Lucrezia..."

"Please do not lie to me or throw up any transparent excuses, Alfonso; I am asking you honestly, for you are not the only one in this marriage who must contend with a rival—although I do not count Lucia, for you dismissed her too easily, hmm? Your enjoyment of her was an act of...carnal reciprocity...I'd hazard?"

"Really?" Alfonso's eyes then were narrowed at her and angry.

"Really."

"Bembo..." he said through gritted teeth.

"Not Bembo, Alfonso; I have, rather unfortunately, found myself privy to several conversations—within and without these walls—attesting to...such things." Lucrezia found Alfonso's insulted look amusing and smiled at him. "Oh, Alfonso, certainly this is not a surprise to you...it is your world, after all; I assure you that those conversations were approving ones, my Lord."

"It's all a joke to you, then, is that it? I offer you my heart, again, and again I am rebuffed." He rose up from the couch.

"You said that we needed to come to a new understanding, Alfonso, did you not? That's what I'm trying to do."

"Alright then, yes, I have very fond feelings toward Chiara..."

"Fond? Is there not even a seed of love there?"

"What does it matter? I am married to you!"

"And you might have married her had it been a more proprietous venture; my father was in love with a courtesan that he could not marry—and all of these years later he loves her still, more deeply than before and in spite of all of the women that came after her. So I am more than familiar with love, and its propensity to blossom, often times, in the most unlikely ways and despite the protestations of others, and every other obstacle besides; and your love is sanctioned, Alfonso, is it not? For she is only a whore, after all...and not your sister."

"Lucrezia..."

"You must tell me the truth."

"Alright then, yes, it's true—I do love her, but—"

"No, Alfonso, do not try and discount her for my sake, for we are on the same footing here, where our hearts are concerned."

Alfonso was speechless and the look of frustration on his face was complete.

"Ah...no more words? Good night, then..." Lucrezia made to leave but Alfonso reached out and took hold of her arm. Lucrezia gave an indignant look at his hand upon her and then up and into his eyes. "Your _honor_ , my Lord?"

Alfonso let her go and managed to find his tongue through his outrage. "And so then, you want me to—to do what?"

"I saw your cloak on the bench, Alfonso, I believe that you were on your way out this evening—I want you to do as you will, my Lord."

"You're turning this all around and trying to lay the blame for our failure squarely upon my shoulders?"

"I am doing no such thing, Alfonso, have you not been listening to me?"

"I see, so you send me off, with your blessing, to my woman—would I be expected to do the same if Cesare were here?"

"If the blood coursing through his veins was not the same as my own? Yes!" With that Lucrezia stormed out of his apartment.


	67. A Matter To Be Resolved

Much to Lucrezia's chagrin Alfonso did not indulge in his usual habit of disappearing into his duties or his usual pleasures away from the castle after their last harsh words at each other. Although he had not always been able to join the family every morning for breakfast he had been present for each evening meal; and even though it put him in the presence of his worrisome half-brother, Giulio, he suffered the man with good grace and was also quite attentive to Lucrezia, much to the delight of Ercole.

For her part Lucrezia hid her irritation with Alfonso well-enough that he was the only one attuned to it. As time progressed the evening meals became easier, almost pleasant for them both. It was often her fair and deft mediation that kept a certain peace between the two ever-contentious brothers and the dinner table free from the overflow of their rancor, which had, in the past, spoiled every one of the brothers few shared meals together.

True to his word and despite the new-found awkwardness between him and his wife, Alfonso did genuinely avail himself to Giovanni over the course of the next following months and found the boy to be a comfort. One crisp October morning, after yet another heated go-round with his brother Giulio regarding the continued tensions between Giulio and Ippolito over Angela Borgia, Alfonso sought to cool his temper by taking air in the Garden of Oranges; he found Giovanni at play with several other little children of the court under the watchful eyes of his nursemaid and Lucrezia; he stopped to watch them romp happily about on their hobby horses and was about to take his leave when the boy looked up and spotted him.

"Papa!" Giovanni cried out happily as he dropped his horse and raced away to greet him. Alfonso knelt down to receive him; it was the first time he had felt the boy's happy and true enthusiasm directed his way; it brought him his first taste of joy within his heart, swollen from the feel of a child's loving little arms wrapped about one's neck. Alfonso gave the boy his loving and happy hug in return.

From where she stood Lucrezia could not deny that the sight of them together was not affecting her but still she held herself in silent reserve.

"You don't want to be out too much longer, Giovanni—look there..." Alfonso pointed upward, "you see those?"

Giovanni cast his questioning gaze toward the sky.

"Those are thunderheads forming there—it will be raining soon..." He took the boy's hand then. "Tell me who you're playing with today and then let's all go to the kitchen—I do believe cook has made a lovely batch of _cioccolata densa_..."

At that happy news all of the children squealed with delight.

"My Lady...will you join us?" Alfonso held out his hand to Lucrezia as the nursemaid gathered the children together; Lucrezia said nothing but took his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And how are you this morning, my Lady?" Alfonso asked as they sat across from each other at the cook's table in the kitchen, watching the children relishing their chocolates with messy and comical gusto.

"I'm fine, but our laundry maids will not be happy when this is all over."

Alfonso gave a chuckle. "No, they will not."

"My Lord, I believe I told you earlier in the month that I am preparing for Lady Caracciuola's visit next month?"

Alfonso stiffened in his seat. "Why must you spoil such a lovely moment, Lucrezia? You would have her here all of November and December?"

"It is a long journey, my Lord and she is bringing her newborn..."

"Yes, yes...you told me—have you found your manners enough, finally, to _ask_ me now if she may actually visit?"

It was Lucrezia's turn to quell her own irritation. "Yes, my Lord, I am asking."

"Then the answer is yes, of course."

Lucrezia was visibly taken aback by his agreeable change in demeanor. "Thank you, my Lord."

Alfonso got up from his seat and came around the table to take one next to his wife. "My Lady, I have an appointment this evening that will keep me from dinner tonight..." he spoke softly as he leaned in closer to her.

_Must you spoil such a lovely moment?_ "Yes, she must miss you terribly," Lucrezia responded quietly, never taking her eyes away from the sight of the children.

"Yes, you are ever intuitive; it is not, however what you think."

"Isn't it?" Lucrezia challenged him.

"I have not seen her for weeks now, this you know well. I am going tonight to end it properly."

"And why must I know about it?" Lucrezia asked him stiffly.

"I endeavor to be as honest with you as you have been with me."

"And why would you do such a thing, my Lord? Surely she brings you comfort that I am incapable of."

"I would not go as far as to say that."

"Well, I surely would."

Alfonso leaned even closer into her and then took one of her hands into his own, then kissed the back of it sweetly. "Yes...you would."

Lucrezia was immediately discomfited and a blush rose upon her cheeks.

"Are you angry or does this...dare I ask it...please, my Lady?"

"It...confuses...my Lord."

"Well, maybe you would allow me to...clarify...it for you? Upon my return tonight?"

"I think not, my Lord."

Alfonso released her hand but had a faint smile upon his face. "Another night, then."

"I must see to the children now..." she said as she rose up from him in a huff.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chiara Acardi was a raven-haired beauty with striking grey eyes that had always seemed to Alfonso as if they were capable of seeing through one's very soul. She had been, indeed, called the 'Grey Lady' in her circle, and had always been much sought after; that she had settled herself almost exclusively upon the Duke of Ferrara had been quite the coup for Alfonso and he was much envied for it. She had received his missive earlier in the week requesting his audience with her and had already prepared herself for his intent, long before his visits had stopped in the weeks prior to its arrival. Ever the professional she had never gotten her hopes up over him even though her heart had betrayed her and held him deep within itself.

She would have readily told anyone who asked that she was glad when she'd found out that his alliance was like most: a contract where no love at all was concerned, no matter how much Alfonso said he loved the woman that he he'd set eyes upon once and then fallen for instantly. But Chiara also knew that he had underestimated Lucrezia and Cesare's love, and that it was mainly Alfonso's pride that had been assaulted, as was always the case in such matters. But there was also no denying that the Borgia Bitch did hold him within her powerful sway and that he truly wanted them to be a success.

Alfonso's knock upon her door heralded his prompt arrival; Chiara opened the door to him slowly and spoke to him through a small crack of it.

"Should I even bother to let you in, my Lord? You may say your simple goodbye and be on your way."

"Let me in, Chiara."

She opened the door wider to admit him but concentrated a long, challenging gaze at him before she unblocked the door and stepped aside; when she closed the door behind him Alfonso came in for a kiss to her cheek, but Chiara stopped him with a firm palm against his chest.

"Chiara..."

"I am sorry you that you love her, Alfonso—for you, not myself. All she will ever have for herself is heartbreak, and her heartbreak will always mean yours."

"You are wrong about her, Chiara."

"This is pointless, Alfonso." She left him at the door to go pour herself a generous helping of wine, then downed a long sip as she stood with her back to him.

"You know that I love you and never meant to hurt you..."

"It was your destiny to hurt me, Alfonso, but it is all my own fault. A whore; a lady; even a queen on her throne: any woman that opens her heart to a man is destined to be hurt, my Lord, and I have been a most-unprofessional whore."

"Chiara, please face me; you must be provided for; you must know that even though I desire to make an honest success of my marriage that I could never abandon you, not without seeing to your comfort. Please turn around..."

She did; an immediate sneer had formed upon her beautiful face. "Go on your way, Alfonso...I don't want that..." she said as she backed away from him and the ruby bauble in his hand; the tears in her eyes made it impossible to discern exactly what it was, or to care. "Your little parting gift, is that it? It's all down to that, then? Pay the whore and go? No thank you. Do not doubt that your generosity has been appreciated but I have a new patron, and so you may cease your monthly stipend, as well."

"Chiara..."

"What? You look surprised—I'm sorry you had to see these; it is a most unfortunate thing, my Lord, but whores do cry, as well as proper ladies. Again I say, I have been a most-unprofessional whore."

Alfonso took a step toward her. "Must we end it like this? I have loved you, truly, Chiara..."

The look on her face at him then was a murderous one. "Go away, my Lord," she said through tightly-clenched teeth, as her full bosom heaved in sure anger, "I am confident that we will never see each other again—understand that your health depends on it." Chiara turned her back to him again and waited to hear his footsteps away; finally she did, followed by the quiet open and close of her door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alfonso returned to Castello Estense he found it uncharacteristically quiet for such an early hour; the kitchen was dark and as he made his way to his apartment he found the galleries lonely and silent; he decided to go and see if his father was in his apartment.

"Come in..." his father responded to the knock upon his door.

Alfonso was surprised to find his father already in his dressing gown as he sat at his desk writing a letter.

"Father, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just old, my son."

"Where is everyone? The place is deserted..."

"Ah... _Il Maestro_ Obrecht slipped into town today...he's giving an impromptu concert somewhere about this evening..."

"And you didn't go?"

"I told you—I'm old...and tired. All I want when I finish this is to see my bed."

"And what is that?"

"I had a letter from Ippolito...apprising me of the goings-on in Rome and elsewhere; His Excellency Cesare Borgia still has not the promised troops from King Louis; yet Urbino is poised to truly surrender itself to him, it seems."

"That's been a long, comical process; I thought his wayward captains had enough arms to take him down finally."

"What? And risk the wrath of Florence and Milan? And Spain and France in the bargain? I think not."

"And where are we now in all of this?"

"My wish is to remain neutral, Alfonso...but my advice is for you to ever shore up our fortifications; Rome is fickle and we must remain impenetrable—even during the lull—especially during the lull, when peace is precarious and war is always waiting, hmm?"

"Yes, father, I agree."

"Where've you been all evening, anyway?"

"I had a matter that needed to be resolved."

"Is that right? Well...is it...resolved...then?"

"It is," Alfonso answered him simply.

Ercole gave him a look. "Good."

"Did my wife go to the concert?"

"She most certainly did not—Giovanni developed an earache this afternoon, she's been tending to him all day. I doubt she would have gone if even she'd been free to do so."

"Why do you say that?"

"Eh? I don't know, she seemed a bit out of sorts today; Giovanni's illness set her back to attention, however; I checked on them both not an hour ago—his fever was down and he was sleeping; the poor girl was exhausted, but quite happily relieved."

"Of course."

"Well..." Ercole signed his letter with a flourish and then gave a satisfied grin at his son, "I'm done with this and off to bed now."

"You're not going to seal that?"

"My bones desire my bed, my son, and the wax is cold..."

"I'll do it for you..."

"Thank you, Alfonso...goodnight."

"Goodnight, father."

When Alfonso was done with his father's letter he went next to Lucrezia's door, for he had another matter to be resolved; upon his second knock the door flew open.

"Oh! Alfonso...good evening..."

"Good evening, my Lady—father told me that Giovanni took ill today?"

"He did but is much better now, thank you. I didn't mean to startle you, but he's with me and I don't want his sleep disturbed."

"I understand...may I come in?"

A frown formed on Lucrezia's face as she stepped outside of the door and closed it.

"You dare to come to me directly after you've been—"

Alfonso took her gently into his arms and cut her off with a kiss, which Lucrezia resisted weakly.

"Alfonso!"

"I've ended it with her, Lucrezia...I told you that I would..."

"You needn't have done such a thing, Alfonso, surely not for my sake..."

"Most assuredly for your sake, my Lady..." Alfonso murmured at her before he took her over again.

"Alfonso..." she gasped at him when their lips parted, "I—"

"You are tired, I know; I will see you to your bed and you shall rest—and let me stay with you tonight; I shall sleep in the salon and if Giovanni awakes and has need of anything at all I shall see to him, for I understand that your day was much taken up."

"I—"

"Not another word, Lucrezia—let's get you to bed."

And so Lucrezia and Giovanni both had a peaceful night of sleep; in the morning Alfonso left his tired wife in her bed and took Giovanni to breakfast before he released the boy with a hug and a kiss to his nursemaid; he returned to his wife with a tray of food which she was too nervous to eat.

"You must have sustenance, Lucrezia..."

"I...appreciate all of this, Alfonso, truly..." she began tentatively, "I simply have no appetite at the moment...I should really get out of bed now..."

"No, my love...you should not..."

Without any further protest Lucrezia yielded to his gentle ministrations and when he kissed her again she was amazed to find that she wanted it...wanted him; wanted to believe that they were a family, at last, and that love between them was a true possibility; tears came to her eyes and greeted him when he faced her again.

"I am so sorry, Alfonso..."

"I am sorry, Lucrezia..."

"So, I am forgiven, then?"

"Only if you can find it in your heart to forgive me; I love Giovanni, as my very own—and I love you, Lucrezia d'Este...I know that I have yet to earn yours, but please let me try..." he whispered his plea at her.

Lucrezia nodded her head at him through her tears, took his bearded cheeks into her hands and gave him the response of her deep and sincere kiss; that morning, for the first time since they had met and been married, almost two years before, Lucrezia and Alfonso made quiet, passionate love. That night Lucrezia moved into Alfonso's apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My Lady! This castle...this entire town...is a wonder! I had not been able to take in its magnificence properly upon my first visit..."

"Your _daughter_ is a wonder, my Lady..." Lucrezia said as she smiled down at the beautiful babe in her arms.

"Hello, my Lady, and welcome back to Ferrara," Alfonso greeted her with a chivalrous nod of his head.

Dorotea looked at them both more closely and a mischievous, wide grin formed upon her face. "Well...I do like this development..."

"Ah! Lady Caracciuola! Welcome to back to Ferrara! And God's blessings to your little one, here!" Ercole beamed at her.

"Thank you, dear Duke, it is my honor to be here."

"Come on with you, we've many festivities planned—let's get you and the babe settled, hmm?"

It was the early afternoon when Dorotea arrived in Ferrara; the banquet feast in her honor began just after nightfall, after which the guests were treated first to a performance in her honor given by Cardinal Pietro Bembo and his musical charge, Giovanni Borgia, both on the lute to the amazement of the whole court.

"Oh, Lucrezia! He is the most delightful little genius! Bravo, Giovanni!" Dorotea cheered at him between the kisses she blew at him.

It was a grand evening and the ladies excused themselves presently to put the children to bed and under the care of their nursemaids; they returned to the banquet hall, which by then, was alive with the dance; it was many hours later before the two friends stole away to talk in Lucrezia's old apartment, where Dorotea had been accommodated.

"Lucrezia—I am so happy for you both! I want all of the happy details!" Dorotea exclaimed at her friend.

"I will tell you the very happiest bit first—I am with child, Dorotea; I have accomplished a thing I had not thought possible—I will provide an heir to this family that has been conceived in love."

"Oh, my love, all of my happy congratulations to you..." Dorotea gave her a kiss and a long, strong hug. "You are sure?"

"I am, my love...there is life within me."

"I do want to hear it all, but it is so late, my love—and I do not want to keep you from your husband a moment longer."

"And I love you, my friend. Two glorious months we are blessed to have together—the only reason that I am able to tear myself away from you now. Do sleep well, you and little Maria, and I shall see you later this morning." Lucrezia gave Dorotea a final kiss goodnight.

"Yes, my love, and the same to you. Thank you for this lovely invitation, and this most-beautiful day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November turned to December; while Lucrezia entertained her friend and prepared the castle for Christmas, Cesare, in Imola, finally had word from the confederates that they were ready to meet.

"And so?"

"Giovanna da Montefeltre has departed with her son for Venice; Andrea Doria is ready to surrender to you, and more importantly, the confederates, at last, my Lord."

"At last. We are ready, then; we leave to meet them on the thirty-first of this month—tell them that, Ugo...their treachery shall end in this year, once and for all, for I wish to start the new one fresh and unfettered by them."

"Yes, Excellency."

"Captains! Rally our men, for soon we are off to Sinigaglia!"


	68. Does That Not Suit?

"Enter."

"Excellency...captains...thank you for this meeting—I'm glad that I made it in time..."

It was Paolo Orsini of Gravina who stood before him on that cold, early December morning in Imola, where Cesare was in conference with Lodovico Pico della Mirandola and Gasparo Sanseverino.

"You can thank King Louis for my delay, actually, Captain," Cesare smiled at him.

"Oh?"

"So, Captain—what brings you here at this late date?" Cesare ignored the man's questioning look.

"Uh...we have been in discussion, the other captains and I, Excellency—"

"Does the date not suit?" Cesare cut him off anxiously. "It is the season to be with loved ones and enjoy good spirits after all, hmm? We shall all truly enjoy the promise of a happier new year, for Italy deserves an end to this particular and constant discontent, does it not, Paolo?"

Orsini was not sure if Cesare's tone was sincere or mocking; but when he looked then at the two uneasy captains and noted the concern on their faces that mirrored his own, he was inclined to believe that Cesare was being quite, and uncharacteristically, sincere. "No, Excellency, the date suits...it's just that we have all agreed that it would be wise to sign our treaty now...before we all meet in Sinigaglia."

"Ah...your brothers still doubt my intentions..." Cesare smirked at him as he led Orsini then to the table in the middle of the tent.

"Not at all, Excellency, simply a formality that is best executed now rather than later?"

"I have no objection, Captain. Hand it over, then..." he said amiably; he took the parchment from Orsini. "You must not doubt my good intent another day, brother—" Cesare picked up several missives from the table, which were from Cardinal Amboise announcing the recent arrival of French troops, and exchanged them with Orsini. "I've received the King's four hundred lances, as you can see, and have been much taken up in their training with our newest weapons, which are most-unfamiliar to them; it is the reason you've chanced to find me still here."

"If I may be so bold, Excellency...training?"

"As we seek to bring about peace amongst ourselves, Captain, Italy must remain vigilant and ready to deal with outside forces ever at her door, yes? I am a soldier, after all, if nothing else, hmm?"

"Yes, Excellency."

Orsini was taken aback at the news but held himself well as he read over the missives; he would have some very choice questions—and words—for Cardinal della Rovere when they saw each other next, for neither he or any of his brothers had heard anything about the arrival of King Louis' soldiers; not that it really mattered at that point and even more so because their number was so few; while he read the cardinal's letters Cesare perused the treaty.

"We must put to rights this situation, once and for all, for the sake of all of Italy—and especially Rome brother; we must properly restore the status quo, yes?" Cesare said, his voice full of discomforting good cheer. Met only by Orsini's long and pronounced silence Cesare looked up from the treaty to face him. "Do not look at me that way, Paolo—we are friends, are we not? I can humbly admit that the scope of the enterprise I endeavored to facilitate was too great a challenge, especially without the aid of my distinguished captains—I have sorely failed to recognize their true merit and importance.

"I have always valued your friendship, Paolo—and your protection. Had it not been for your family my dear sister would have had no safer refuge upon her escape from Naples. Because of that and so many other reasons, my friend, please confer to our brothers that I truly desire this peace at last...you cannot know how desperately my heart aches for it..." That statement was the only truth he leveled at Orsini that day, for Cesare was so very weary of the fight that kept him ever from his heart's truest desire.

Cesare's sudden shift in tone and the faraway look in his eyes cemented Orsini's belief that the man was truly mad and finally defeated enough in spirit that they really could take him, in spite of the King's late —and notably meager—support.

"And how is my cousin Cardinal?" He asked then of Francisco Lloris y de Borja, whom Cesare had sent to the confederates as a hostage in good faith a few weeks prior, and was the truest impetus for Orsini's visit.

"He is being treated well, I assure you, Excellency."

"Very good; and I am more than ready to entreat with you all, accordingly—and peacefully. I ask only..." Cesare said quietly as his eyes went back to the treaty, "that you might all refrain from your prejudices and allow me, at least, my honor along with your forgiveness."

"Yes, most definitely, for there is certainly honor in forgiveness, Excellency, and also in those big enough to ask for it," Orsini managed to get out, shocked and almost sad to see the Great and Terrible Cesare Borgia reduced to the quiet, desperate mumblings of a sure lunatic.

Cesare dipped a quill into the ink pot upon the table.

"Did you...read it all, Excellency?" Orsini looked again to the two captains who refused to meet his gaze or cast their eyes upon the emotional Duke.

Cesare did well to keep the malice in his heart from registering on his face or in his voice. "Of course I did—I agree to all of the terms—is there a question?" _Not that it matters a damn..._

"Well, uh—before you sign, there is another waiting outside who must be present..." Orsini went to the tent flap, opened it and admitted Niccolo Machiavelli.

"Old friends abound this morning! Machiavelli—always good to lay eyes upon you! Good morning!"

"Excellency, good morning," Machiavelli gave a deep bow at him; even though he had heard Cesare's vocal swings of emotion his own face displayed neither alarm or judgment.

As Cesare went to the table to clear a spot and pull up a chair for the Florentine Secretary of State, Orsini whispered to the man out of the side of his mouth, "He's gone mad..."

"I think not, my Lord; I'm inclined to believe that he is simply a realist," Machiavelli answered him stiffly, with a scowl upon his magnificent face, for Orsini knew as well as he did that neither Cesare nor Pope Alexander Sixtus stood any chance of continued success with both the Colonna and Orsini against them; Machiavelli reasoned that it must have been a sad day for Cesare, indeed; his good faith was not at issue nor was it required—Cesare simply had no other choice than to treat for peace.

"What's that?" Cesare asked when he turned back to face them. "Would you like a seat, Ambassador?" he held out a chair for him.

"Thank you, my Lord, but this is to be but a brief matter of business."

"Very well—you require a signature..." Cesare went back to the table, signed the treaty and then approached Orsini with it. "Here, old friend. In two weeks, then, hmm?"

"Yes, Your Excellency, two weeks."

"Machiavelli, a brief but very satisfying honor." Cesare gave a formal nod at the man.

"Thank you, Excellency. Godspeed to you."

"And to you."

With that the two men left the tent; Cesare went to the flap and threw it back to watch them ride off; when they were out of sight he turned to his two uneasy captains and gave them a long stern look. It was Gasparo who broke first, with a loud, hearty roar of laughter, followed in kind by Lodovico, as he wiped at tears from the corner of his eye; Cesare only gave them both a satisfied smirk through a condescending little shake of his head.

"You played them well, my Lord," Lodovico guffawed at him.

"I can hear him now... _'Cesare Borgia ha perso la sua mente!'_ " Gasparo came to him then and gave him a firm pat upon the back. "That was quite the performance, my Lord..." he looked back to Lodovico, " _'Does the date not suit?''_ Oh, God in Heaven, my side hurts..."

Again, Cesare gave a silent smirk at them and then his own compliment. "And I hazard that I could not have asked for a better supporting cast, hmm?"

The two men bowed at him as actors would at the end of a play.

"Alright then...we've had our fun—the agreement will be ratified by tomorrow evening—by dawn of the day after that we leave for Cesena...I shall show them insane, indeed..." Cesare muttered under his breath; for Ugo di Cardona had long given him a copy of the treaty, naming The King of France, the Duke of Ferrara, and the Republic of Florence as guarantors; and a copy was already on its way to Rome for his father to review.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a meeting of the Consistory Cardinal Ascanio Sforza received an urgent missive; judging by the cavalier who had delivered it he knew that it needed to be read immediately by Rodrigo. Amidst a sea of inquiring eyes he rose from his seat in his smug, slow, deliberate way and approached Rodrigo.

"Holiness...a word?"

"We may do better than a word, Cardinal Sforza, for We tire of the constant complaints of the Consistory—at least on this day and at this moment..." Rodrigo dismissed the Consistory abruptly, ignored the cacophony of their displeasure that serenaded him away, and headed for his office with Ascanio, as Johannes Burchart followed closely behind; he was at the door and had ushered Ascanio in before him. "Not now, Burchart, hmm?" he said after he had entered through it and then turned to face him. "A moment, please..." he gave Burchart a firm look, then closed the door and locked it.

"Well?" he began at Ascanio, who had already taken his seat at Rodrigo's desk and was waiting for him to settle himself into his own. "What does it say?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Florence, Machiavelli had given his report of the meeting between Cesare Borgia and Paolo Orsini, and was reading the terms of the agreement to the Chancery:

_"Agreement between the Duke of Valentinois and the Confederates._

_"Let it be known to the parties mentioned below, and to all who shall see these presents, that His Excellency the Duke of Romagna of the one part and the Orsini of the other part, together with their confederates, desiring to put an end to differences, enmities, misunderstandings, and suspicions which have arisen between them, have resolved as follows:_

_"There shall be between them peace and alliance true and perpetual, with a complete obliteration of wrongs and injuries which may have taken place up to this day, both parties engaging to preserve no resentment of the same; and in conformity with the aforesaid peace and union, His Excellency the Duke of Romagna shall receive into perpetual confederation, league, and alliance all the lords aforesaid; and each of them shall promise to defend the estates of all in general and of each in particular against any power that may annoy or attack them for any cause whatsoever, excepting always nevertheless the Pope Alexander VI and his Very Christian Majesty Louis XII, King of France: the lords above named promising on the other part to unite in the defense of the person and estates of His Excellency, as also those of the most illustrious lords, Don Gioffredo Borgia, Prince of Squillace, Don Rodrigo Borgia, Duke of Sermaneta and Biselli, and Don Gian Borgia, Duke of Camerino and Negi, all brothers or nephews of the Duke of Romagna..."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Ferrara, Alfonso had taken receipt of the letter from Florence and had hastened his father away from a concert in the Hall of Games—and Lucrezia's questioning eyes—to his own private office, where he was reading it to Ercole:

_"...Moreover, since the rebellion and usurpation of Urbino have occurred during the above-mentioned misunderstandings, all the confederates aforesaid and each of them shall bind themselves to unite all their forces for the recovery of the estates aforesaid and of such other places as have revolted and been usurped._

_"His Excellency the Duke of Romagna shall undertake to continue to the Orsini and Vitelli their ancient engagements in the way of military service and on the same conditions._

_"His Excellency promises further not to insist on the service in person of more than one of them, as they may choose: the service that the others may render shall be voluntary._

_"He also promises that the second treaty shall be ratified by the sovereign pontiff, who shall not compel Cardinal Orsini to reside in Rome longer than shall seem convenient to this prelate..."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_"...Furthermore, since there are certain differences between the Pope and the lord Gian Bentivoglio, the confederates aforesaid agree that they shall be put to the arbitration of Cardinal Orsini, of His Excellency the Duke of Romagna, and of the lord Pandolfo Petrucci, without appeal._

_"Thus the confederates engage, each and all, so soon as they may be required by the Duke of Romagna, to put into his hands as a hostage one of the legitimate sons of each of them, in that place and at that time which he may be pleased to indicate._

_"The same confederates promising moreover, all and each, that if any project directed against any one of them come to their knowledge, to give warning thereof, and all to prevent such project reciprocally._

_"It is agreed, over and above, between the Duke of Romagna and the confederates aforesaid, to regard as a common enemy any who shall fail to keep the present stipulations, and to unite in the destruction of any States not conforming thereto._

_"(Signed) CAESAR, PAOLO ORSINO._

_"AGAPIT, Secretary."_ Ascanio concluded his reading of the treaty.

"So...Florence...the Duke of Ferrara...The King of France..." Rodrigo chuckled. "What a lot of work they would have had cut out for themselves...and that lot...traitorous as ever—wait until they find out that Bentivoglio has already brokered his own separate treaty with Cesare..." he shook his head in amusement. "Will the Sons of Rome ever learn? Surely they will never change..."

"So it seems, Holiness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it was, just one day after the guarantors had been notified of the treaty, that Cesare Borgia, with no word to anyone, not even his father, descended upon Cesena with his German Surprise of twenty-five hundred souls and another thirty-five hundred soldiers split between the calvary and the infantry.

Word began to spread throughout the Romagna and Tuscany that Cesare Borgia was not only not beaten, but had a vast army that was on the move; many did not believe it, at first, until eyewitness accounts came pouring in from Venice, where the approaching army was seen advancing along the Po River; the reports of the monstrous war wagons that flanked his soldiers, became irrefutable—and fantastic; as the reality of his presence sank in, the fear Cesare had intended to strike hit a fever pitch throughout the whole of Northern Italy.

The confederates retreated to Urbino to discuss their dilemma; Vitelli's response to them during their many heated debates was simply: _"Didn't I tell you that he could not be trusted?"_ As their accusations flew venomously back and forth at each other they failed to realize right away that Giovanni Bentivoglio, at some point on the first night that Cesare's presence had been confirmed, had taken his leave. Neither was Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere faring well during their discussions, as his own nephew, the Duke of Urbino became quite vocal as to the importance of his uncle's existence on earth.

"How did we get it so wrong? How is it that we ever put our trust in you? I must flee my home, you insufferable bastard! To save my life and that of my wife! You hadn't been in contact with King Louis, at all, had you?"

"Four hundred fucking lances, Guidobaldo! That's nothing!"

"Cesare Borgia has an army of six thousand, Giuliano! Six thousand!"

"And we have nine!"

"That Florence would not allow us to employ! And here we are! Outmatched by the Borgia Menace, again!" Guidobaldo rushed his uncle and took a swing at him, but Vitellozzo held him back.

"I don't have the energy for this! Just leave, Guidobaldo, while you still can," Vitellozzo hissed at him.

"There was a spy amongst us—do not blame me for this—"

"And who was it, then?" Gian Paolo Baglioni sneered at the Cardinal.

"Bentivoglio has fled; di Cardona is not here—it had to be one of them, if not both...that is the only possible way Cesare could have been so magnificently ahead of our every step..." Giuliano muttered to himself.

"But what is he doing? Venice has postured herself, even through her fear; Tuscany is ready to cower at his feet; Urbino is lost...Florence doesn't care...as long as he doesn't move against her, they don't care a damn..." Baglioni said disgustedly.

"He is merely posturing...we have signed a treaty!"

"One doesn't 'posture' with an army of six thousand, Cardinal!" Oliverotto da Fermo weighed in, more exasperated than words could ever express.

"And we have arms, too!" Giuliano pounded the table that they were gathered around with his fist.

"It's not bad enough that we have Cesare Borgia to contend with—you would have us be responsible for starting the war between France and Spain, then?"

"WE HAVE ARMS, TOO! HOW MUCH CLEARER CAN THE ANSWER BE, BROTHERS?"

Gian Paolo glowered at the cardinal then; seconds later della Rovere was a scarlet heap upon the floor, his nose bloodied and near broken. "If I hear the word 'we' come out of your mouth once more I'll kill you."

"Baglioni! Enough!" Vitellozzo barked at him.

Without aid from any of the others della Rovere managed to pull himself up from the floor and into a chair; with nothing else at his disposal he took the hem of his ruined robe and put it to his nose. "He's posturing, I tell you...merely posturing," he spoke tiredly at them.

"I suggest, Cardinal," Vitellozzo began quietly, "that you shut that mouth of yours and tend to yourself, hmm?"

"I'll go to him..." Oliverotto said then, "and see what the fuck he wants; I'll send word tonight that I will see him at his convenience...I'll go..." he reiterated to the disgruntled group and then left them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Florence had indeed remained quiet about the whole situation, happy to see Cesare's advance away from them; Venice had indeed sent all of her troops to the Po River...and waited—with equal measures of dread and bravery—to see what he would do next; knowing well that Venice would be distrustful of their presence, Cesare dismissed the four hundred French lances away from Cesena, for by that point they did not matter to him, anyway. He prepared himself to deal with the envoys of Vitellozzo Vitelli and Paolo Orsini, who, as they scrambled to mount some kind of offensive, still had the same question in their collective minds as his own father, though they would not dare to voice it in the same manner as the Pope of Rome.

In Ferrara, Lucrezia continued to enjoy the holiday with her family, her court, and her very good friend, Dorotea Caracciuola; Ercole and Alfonso d'Este vowed to keep the news from her as long as they were was able to do so and until the inevitable moment came that would dictate otherwise.

For her part, Rome's response was completely silent in regards to questions of the latest exploits of the Duke of Valentinois; and born more out anger from the lack of his son's disclosure about his true intent, Rodrigo's question to his son came in the form of a hastily sent and very short message:

_"What the hell are you doing?"_


	69. Sinigaglia

"Oh...Vannozza...Vannozza, my love..."

Vannozza cradled Rodrigo's head gingerly as he nuzzled into her bosom, and found herself both amused at his child-like display of desperation and slightly alarmed at it. He had come to her palazzo earlier that evening, full of silent passion and in great need of her. They were lying in her bed then, under the light of the hearth alone, which was threatening soon to go out.

"What is it, Rodrigo? I'm happy to see you but you are troubled my love, and distracted—what is it?"

"Ah...it is but the reintroduction to the reality of my waning virility, it seems..."

"It is most certainly not—" Vannozza tilted his head up so that Rodrigo's eyes could meet her own, "you only require time to rest yourself, I know that..." she smirked at him.

"That is most kind of you, my love..." he gave a loving tweak to her cheek.

"No, not kind, Rodrigo, only the truth...what is your trouble?" she asked him firmly as he settled back into his comfort of her.

"What is my trouble? Your son is my trouble, that's what," he grumbled beneath her; above him Vannozza gave a light chuckle.

"Ah...'my' son...why is it that when he causes you such foul temperament he is 'my' son only, Rodrigo?" Vannozza teased him.

"Indeed," he grumbled at her.

"Come now, Rodrigo, I will not ask you again, what—"

" _Your_ son advances soon to Sinigaglia—in two weeks, to be exact—to receive that lot of traitorous confederates under a treaty of peace after all of these long and contentious years..."

"And? You knew that it was coming, did you not?"

"I did; I also know that the Sons of Rome are ever divided amongst themselves, evidenced by the very separate and secret treaty brokered between Cesare and Giovanni Bentivoglio..."

"That certainly can't be a surprise—what is surprising is that they all didn't sneak away from each other to do the same," Vannozza harrumphed.

"Indeed...I should stoke that," he said of the dying embers in the hearth and then got up to do just that.

"And King Louis finally gave Cesare his promised lances, I've heard, enough to put them down at last?" she asked him as she watched him, in all of his naked glory, tend to the fire across the suite.

"Cesare has dismissed the four hundred paltry French lances to keep Venice at ease...but advances toward her with an army of some six thousand, I have now learned," Rodrigo said over his shoulder at her, as he crouched before the fire.

"Six thousand! That you did not know about, I hazard..." she smiled to herself. "And dismissed or not, their number notwithstanding, the confederates now know, in no uncertain terms, that Cesare still has the support of King Louis...bravo, Cesare..." she smiled broadly then at Rodrigo.

"Well, I'm glad that you're so happy..." he grumbled as he finished his task and then rejoined her in the bed.

"And why aren't you, Rodrigo?"

"Because I don't know what he's doing!" Rodrigo erupted exasperatedly at her. "Here I am, trying to assure all of Italy that the treaty is in good faith, and there he is, advancing throughout Tuscany, poised to start a civil war!"

"You wanted a kingdom, Rodrigo—Cesare endeavors to obtain it...and is succeeding—I don't understand your trouble."

"Argh! Vannozza! It is as if I have no part, anymore, in my own destiny! Cesare usurps me at every possible turn!"

"Ah...I do understand," she said then with a knowing nod of her head at him. "Rodrigo..." Vannozza released him and gestured for him to sit up and face her, to which Rodrigo complied. "Rodrigo...you and I both know that there came a point in this endeavor where it became most necessary for you to be ignorant of his truest plans in this campaign; your part in your own destiny is coming to an end, and Cesare's part in his own has now fully begun, that's all. You will not be Pope forever, my love, and the sands of time are against you."

"Well, Vannozza, that is most harsh..."

"But true, Rodrigo, and not just against you, but Cesare, as well. He must act with such ruthlessness because the kingdom is not yet secured, and will be less so upon your demise; none of us has openly spoken to it; no one wants to think of that sad day, but surely you must understand his dilemma and why he takes the course that he does? There is so much yet to be done..."

Rodrigo gave her a sad look of recognition. "I do know it, my love; Lucrezia and I had this very talk after the birth of Rodrigo; I know well the pressure that he is under; I share the same fears; I only wish that he found it easier to confide in me instead of keeping me ever and so magnificently in the dark about his plans—it might help us to share this burden together, that's all..."

"Rodrigo, come here, my love..." Vannozza took him into her loving embrace and settled him again upon her warm bosom. "You are both two very strong and proud men; it is a delicate thing for men to own up to their mere mortality, let alone speak about it; you are both blessed to be able to understand each other—do not fault him for honoring you as his father and not broaching this most delicate and painful subject with you vocally. And if it is to be broached, you should be the one to put him at his ease by doing so first, hmm? I know my son...and I know you; be still, that's all you need to do..."

"I worry for him, Vannozza...these days it seems to be all that I ever do, is worry about that boy..."

"Welcome to my world, my love. Bide your time, Rodrigo...I am certain that you will reclaim _our_ son again, soon enough, and heartily, and that he will successfully put some of your fears to rest, hmm?"

"Oh my love...what would I ever do without you?" he looked up at her with eyes full of his love and appreciation.

" _That_ , my dearest Rodrigo, is something that you must never worry about..." she said softly through her sweet smile before she kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so it was in Ferrara that Lucrezia heard, finally, about her brother's exploits, but from her friend, Lady Dorotea, some three days before Cesare was to arrive at Sinigaglia.

"What is this? The King honored his promise at last but Cesare sent the French lances away?"

"According to Giambattista, yes..." Dorotea responded with her own surprise as she read hurriedly through the rest of the missive from her husband; it had come by special courier while she and Lucrezia had been in the company of the full court at yet another lively dinner feast; she had excused herself to go and read it and hurried back to inform Lucrezia that there was news to be shared—privately. Lucrezia waited for the beginning of the dance and then made apologies to her husband that her delicate disposition dictated a brief moment away from the festivities, at which point she absconded away with Dorotea's helping hand; they were in Dorotea's suite then, pouring over the letter together.

"Alfonso has said nothing of this to me...nothing! Ferrara, France and Florence...all named as co-guarantors of the Treaty, it says...yet neither Ercole or Alfonso have said one word to me!"

"I am not defending them, my love, but surely they did not wish to trouble you..."

"Trouble me? Ferrara has embraced me well-enough, but I know of the talk about the city; I know of the grumbling throughout the citizenry, regarding His Holiness and the claims that he has not yet honored any of his promises to the Duke since my marriage, and they blame my brother equally; the confederates have turned on my brother, so many times, and King Louis is a sure double-dealer—Dorotea, if this is a trick they do indeed have the arms to put my brother down...and now your beloved Venice is poised against him..." Lucrezia began to pace a circle upon the floor around the divan worriedly.

"Lucrezia, please my love...we don't know that..."

But Lucrezia was thinking of Cesare's German Surprise, now bolstered to an incredible force of six thousand—but still no match for the nine thousand men the confederates had at their own disposal. "I am forever in the most untenable situation, Dorotea—you know of the forces the Orsini and Vitelli have at hand, truly..."

"I am sure that Florence still forbids it, my Lady—they would not have Spain and France brought up against each other over this, certainly..." Dorotea tried to assure her.

"I know that this treaty cannot possibly be in good faith where the confederates are concerned; why else would Cesare march out such an army before himself? If my brother finds himself on the losing end of this campaign, Dorotea, my fate will mirror his."

"It says here that your father had the very same question, Lucrezia..."

"What?"

"Here..." Dorotea handed Lucrezia the letter and pointed to the section beginning the account of Pope Alexander's silence on the issue of Cesare's march to Sinigaglia and the the short missive to his son questioning the same.

"None of this comforts me, and that Alfonso has not confided as much to me can only mean ill for me..."

"He loves, you, Lucrezia, you know that more certainly than you ever did before..." Dorotea countered passionately.

"Love means nothing where politics are concerned, my love, you know this as well as I do; and I have never put my trust in King Louis, and never will...and certainly not to the same extent as my father and my brother," Lucrezia said sadly as she took her dejected seat upon the divan. "I know the reasons His Holiness knows not of Cesare's truest intentions, but I'm surprised that he would send his question to Cesare in such a manner—it only invites speculation on the matter in ways he, himself, usually counsels against."

"Three days to New Years Eve, my Lady—will you let on to Alfonso that you know of this?"

"What I want to do is bash Alfonso's head in..." came Lucrezia's disgusted reply.

"You do not mean that, my love; I am certain that he only wanted to spare you this very worry..."

"Maybe."

Dorotea went to her friend, knelt before her at the divan and stilled Lucrezia's wringing hands by taking them into her own. "You've a child in your womb, my love...heir to the duchy of Ferrara—you will not be forsaken."

"Mothers are disposable in such matters, Dorotea...especially mothers named 'Borgia'; no, my love... should the tide ever turn effectively against one of them, my father or my brother, then so it shall against them both—and against me, as well."

For the remainder of those last three days in December 1502, Lucrezia took to her bed, citing again the discomforts of pregnancy as the cause, and said nothing to her husband of her knowledge of the events about to play out in Sinigaglia; her constant and only companions were Dorotea and their babes, Giovanni and Maria. Alfonso granted her respite without argument or suspicion and took up rooms in a suite just further down the corridor; he checked lovingly in on her often, unaware that his wife was seething at him through her smiles and his ministrations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare had already met with Oliverotto da Fermo in Cesena, mere days after his visit from Paolo Orsini and Niccolo Machiavelli. They had gone roundabout in comical circles as Cesare continued to play daft and distracted, ruminating vocally and vacillating wildly between sticking to the plan or marching against Tuscany, instead of Sinigaglia.

"But Tuscany is still my friend—how could I even think to do such a thing, Oliverotto?

"We are still your friends, as well, Cesare, yes?"

"Are you? Is anyone, anymore?" Cesare asked him through squinted suspicious eyes.

"We will meet you wherever you like, Cesare—but the plans have all been finalized for Sinigaglia," Oliverotto delicately reminded the mad man. Cesare finally acquiesced, successfully leaving Oliverotto to believe that he had stirred the Spaniard on to approve and remain true to the original plans of his comrades' regarding Sinigaglia.

"Alright then, that is finally settled, brother. Thank you, Oliverotto, for taking up the cause and coming to see me so personally on behalf of our brothers."

"Yes, I apologize for the delay in getting here, Excellency..."

"Not at all, I find your response to be quite timely...and your sincere intent is appreciated. We do...want to get it right...do we not?"

"We do, Excellency."

"Very good. I will see you all soon, then. Go with God, brother."

"And you, Excellency."

And so da Fermo returned to his anxious brothers with the news of his meeting.

"And so he agrees—"

"He agrees to release more of his troops in good faith, in addition to his French lances, as he counts our troops now amongst his own; he should be at Rimini by now—can anyone confirm that he has fallen back?"

"I can," Gian Paolo Baglioni spoke up, "my intermediaries in Imola report that his escort has been reduced by half."

"Are you sure?" Vitellozzo Vitelli asked him with a sneer, for he was still unconvinced that Cesare would ever offer his truest friendship to him again.

"Where are your balls, man?" Aggobbio Orsini ribbed him then.

Vitellozzo looked around the room and knew that silently they were all laughing at him; but they had not seen the worst of the Borgia Bastard's legendary cruelty with their own eyes; had not witnessed him roll a man in gunpowder and set him aflame; had not seen him at the forefront of battle, and the joy that set his eyes aflame at the chance to cut down an enemy with his own sword; Vitellozzo did not believe the accounts swirling throughout Urbino, or from Oliverotto's lips, that the Spaniard had gone mad, either from his own monkey blood or from the French Disease that was most-likely boiling his brains. If only, Vitellozzo sneered again, to himself then, as his own secret regarding that very disease would soon be hard to keep. He looked at all of the critical eyes upon him and said what he had to say, did what he had to do—the only thing that he could do, in order to save face.

"Yes, Vitelli, where are your balls, indeed?" da Fermo gave a sly smile at him.

Vitellozzo looked again around the room at them, inwardly angered by their condescending smirks at him, their wolf-pack mentality, precarious solidarity and fleeting allegiance, but gave no outward hint of his contempt at them. "Keep your mind off of my fucking balls, the lot of you, or I shall be inclined to believe that I'm in league with a bunch of sodomites, eh?"

The other men all roared with laughter and Vitellozzo was redeemed, but still far from trusting of Cesare Borgia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 31, 1502. Sinigaglia, Italy.

On the morning of Thursday, December 31, 1502, the sun rose upon a world prepared to welcome a New Year; in Italy, those most affected by the presence of Cesare Borgia, and those in the know about his business on that day, waited to see just how that day would play out, for it was the day that he would finally come face-to-face with his rebellious captains and Sons of Rome: Vitellozzo Vitelli, Aggobbio Orsini, Paolo Orsini, and Oliverotto da Fermo, and the company of their fifteen hundred troops. Notably absent were Gian Paolo Baglioni, who, despite all of his previous contempt for and defiant stance against Borgia, had seen fit to escape into the night before his brothers would march away early that next morning; Pandolfo Petrucci, who had fled away from his brothers in Urbino weeks before; and Ugo di Cardona, whom they were soon to meet again, firmly—and literally—on the side of Cesare Borgia.

Poised about a mile away from the sea and within a bow-shot of the Apennine Mountains, Cesare had ordered his cavalry to stop on a bridge opposite a suburb of the town, as they waited for the confederates; upon seeing their arrival in the distance he ordered the bulk of his men to the command of Captain Francesco de Luna and forward, across the bridge, and on into town to assume battle formation in the great square. Behind him remained one hundred troops; to his left was Captain Ugo di Cardona; to his right was Captain Micheletto Corella. Cesare then sent Captain Lodovico Pico della Mirandola with another two hundred horse to escort the confederates to meet him, the sight of which was quite imposing as they followed the coast of the Adriatic Sea marching ten abreast. Their advance also served as the signal for Gasparo Sanseverino, who lead the war wagon and remaining horse, to advance from the rear, followed by Raffaele dei Pazzi and Galeotto Pallavicini in command of the Germans, with Ranieri della Sassetta falling in last, commanding the cannon.

It became apparent to the confederates, immediately, that the accounts of Cesare's troops having fallen back in Imola and Cesena were lies; the troops that the Orsini and Vitelli had quartered in the little towns and villages throughout the neighborhood of Sinigaglia to make room for the Duke's army were no match for what they saw ahead or behind them: Cesare's men-at-arms, marching steadily before them, troops flanking him on the bridge and beyond the city gate; and the Germans, led by Leonardo da Vinci's monstrous war machine, roaring up behind them like a nightmare loosed from hell.

Sufficiently sandwiched between Cesare's forces with only the mountains on the right and the sea on the left—and with absolutely no means of escape—the thought, at that point, of da Fermo's nearly 1000 infantry and 150 horse, quartered in barracks of the suburb close by, provided no source of comfort for the cornered captains, or a viable solution for their uneasy predicament.

"Brothers!" Cesare called out to them when they came finally within earshot, his arms opened wide in welcome at them, "What is this hesitation? Come! Let us end all of this rancor and begin the New Year fresh and free of dissent!"

Captain Pico della Mirandola gestured then for all of the men to dismount.

"All of this for us?" Paolo Orsini smiled uneasily at him when he came to standing upon the ground before the Duke.

"All of what, brother? It is only pomp and circumstance, to be sure, as I honor those which I have previously thought far too lightly of; a show of what we shall share as we go forward and defend this Italy that we love so well...together."

Orsini's smile then was full of admiration, and it was apparent to the others that he believed Cesare's words at them.

"Thank you, Excellency, this day has been long in coming, and I'm pleased that our treaty is in effect, at last," Aggobbio, the Duke of Gravina spoke up then, "the people will be happy."

Cesare gave a nod of appreciation at him. He noticed that da Fermo and Vitelli were not won over, at all. "Vitellozzo? Oliverotto? Do you not agree that this is a joyous day for us all? Come, really—let us give up the old grudges and let bygones be bygones, yes?"

"You really mean that, Cesare?" Vitelli dared to ask him.

"Come to me, Vitellozzo, so that I may prove it with my heartfelt and brotherly hug...you would do me an honor, sir. Better yet..." Cesare dismounted his horse and approached the wary man with a broad smile, "I would be honored to come to you, my friend, you are confederates never again..." he took Vitellozzo into a warm and genuine embrace proving further, to the Orsini at least, that Cesare's intent was true; he grabbed Oliverotto up into his manly embrace, then. "Come, brothers; I am tired of these petty disagreements between us; there is food and drink inside, prepared especially to help celebrate this occasion as well as provide you and your men sustenance after your long journey last night, hmm? Come..." Cesare mounted his horse and waited for them to follow suit, then led the way through the city gate and through the square. Upon seeing the troops practicing their drills he became visibly angry, for in a far corner of the square was a company of soldiers watching a careful demonstration of da Vinci's poison pellets, evidenced by the strange, noxious black gas billowing in the air before them.

"Captain de Luna!"

"Yes, Excellency?"

"What is this? I told you that those pellets were not even to brought along on this campaign, and here you are at training with them?"

"Pardon me, Excellency, I—"

"Cease this exercise, at once! And this square, sir; we would not have our brother Captains, or their men involved in any misunderstandings, here—I will have no quarrels, not even the risk of such, that would mar this day, or any other going forward. House your men in their barracks, please, and show our newest companions to their own."

"Immediately, Excellency," de Luna saluted Cesare then set off to task.

"Oliverotto, would you?" Cesare motioned to da Fermo's troops filing though the city gate, most of them unable to mask the stunned looks on their faces.

"Of course...men!" he called out to them, "to your accommodations! Follow Captain de Luna."

"Very good—to the palace, brothers."

"Andrea Doria—"

"Acquitted himself quite peacefully, Oliverotto," Cesare cut him off amiably. "Thank you all for your helpful negotiations in the matter."

Finally they were all at the entrance to the palace; all of the men dismounted their horses and Cesare signaled to Ugo di Cardona to await his further orders; Captain Corella proceeded forward, followed by ten other soldiers and led the way before Cesare to the appointed room where the men would break bread; the confederates were led away then by Cesare, hardly able to keep up with his quick, boisterous steps as he made the way up the first flight of stairs and into a conference room where the long table had been set for a feast.

Vitelli, still not at his complete ease, was glad to be inside and under fewer scrutinizing eyes; Orsini, the Duke and da Fermo were all smiles and anxious to take wine from the decanters set upon the table after Cesare acknowledged their desire to partake from them with his own mirthful eyes directed their way.

"Yes, it is a good vintage, brothers..." he began with a wide smile. "Now is the hour!" he called out to the soldiers in the room, as two each descended upon their assigned confederate and quickly overtook him. "That you shall never taste!" On his face then was fearful grimace.

The four men were upon the floor already, overpowered and with daggers at their throats.

"Get them out of my sight!" he barked the order at his soldiers, who pulled them up and led then men away to a dungeon; in the barracks, where they had all just been collected, the confederates' soldiers were taken prisoner under the command of Ugo di Cardona, who had understood his instruction from Cesare the moment he had disappeared into the palace. Cesare's troops began, then, to pillage the town, as he dispatched Captain Corella to summon Niccolo Machiavelli.

In the dungeons below the palace, each of the four confederates were jailed separately and out of sight of one another, shackled in their cells to the walls by their hands and feet, screaming their useless curses against each other and their imminent fates.


	70. The Proposal

Niccolo Machiavelli, already waiting in one of the nearby suburbs, was visited by Captain Corella and escorted to Rocca Roveresca to meet with Cesare on behalf of the Florentine Chancery. As with all of their meetings that had been conducted since the death of Ramiro d'Orco their talk was brief and to the point; it took just barely over an hour to discuss their pertinent concerns and then Machiavelli departed to Florence to give his report.

The next night after Machiavelli's departure, as he gave his report to the Florentine Chancery, the four beaten confederates, confined deep within the bowels of Rocca Roveresca, were accosted by eight masked men who erupted into the dungeon upon them. Each man was sure that it was his last night on Earth. However, only two were led away to meet their sure fates as the other two listened in horror while their comrades were violently unshackled and beaten savagely once again for good measure, then drug away out of the dungeon and into the night. They listened sadly as one captive vacillated between screaming out out his condemnations against them all with one breath, and then pleading for mercy upon his next weak one. Bound and hooded the men were carried away by their sure executioners from their terrified co-captives, who could only wonder when next their turn would come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Proceed, Ambassador Machiavelli, please..." he was directed by the First Chancellor.

"Good evening, First Chancellor," Machiavelli nodded at the man, "Second Chancellor," he nodded at the man seated beside him, "my, Lords, Magistrates and fellow Republicans. I come to relay to you now the events as they took place on the evening of December 31, 1502, between myself, Ambassador and humble servant of the Chancery of the Florentine Republic, and His Excellency, Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia, at Rocca Roveresca, Sinigaglia, Italy.

"His Excellency sent his First Captain and an escort of one thousand horse for my safe journey to Rocca Roveresca. The Duke received me amicably and was calm and joyous of disposition. We took our meeting in the Grand Hall on the second floor of the castle, which has been recently vacated by Giovanna di Montefeltre under the amicable negotiations brokered between the Duke and our esteemed Condottiero, Andrea Doria.

"The Duke of Valentinois wishes for me to impart to you, and on his humble behalf, his truest desire to be aligned with Florence, and endeavors that Florence would reciprocate. He would ask that you kindly consider the following three proposals:

"One. Cesare Borgia wishes for Florence to celebrate this victory with him, taking into consideration that he has such affection for Her that he endeavored to eliminate swiftly and with one single, devastating blow, the enemies of the King, himself, and Florence; and hopes that the end of these sure troublemakers, whose dissension and destructive actions were a scourge that had the potential to lay waste to all of Italy, is appreciated. In that his service to Florence effectively quelled the confederates from ever marching against Her, he hopes to garner the esteem and gratitude from Florence in kind, that he would be so honored to receive.

"Two. Cesare Borgia would beg for proof of Florentine Republic's friendliness by having Her cavalry march with him towards Borgo and assemble there more infantry, in case the need arises that he should be required to march on Castello or Perugia.

"Three. Cesare Borgia petitions the Florentine Republic to ensure that the Duke of Urbino, Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, should be arrested if he flees from Castello into the territories of Florence, which may certainly be his course of action when the Duke learns that Vitellozzo Vitelli is His Excellency's prisoner."

Machiavelli concluded his report with a final nod and a humble bow at the entire Chancery then settled his calm, unreadable gaze at the First Chancellor and awaited his questions.

"How did you counsel him, Machiavelli?" the First Chancellor asked then with an intrigued lift of one eyebrow,

"I objected to his third demand, my Lord; I cautioned that, to give up the Duke would not be a fitting display of the Republic's dignity, sirs; that the Republic would never consent to such a condition; to which he proposed that the Republic should keep the Duke, but not grant the Duke's liberty without His Excellency, Cesare Borgia's, permission. And so, I bring it all to you, now, for His Excellency awaits your reply."

The room erupted in a vocal uproar and immediate debate; the First Chancellor gave Machiavelli an approving nod, showing that he was in agreement with the Ambassador's wise counsel and then began the rough task of trying to bring the room to order.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the designated place of their execution the two captive confederates were unhooded and thrown down to the ground, then ordered to come to their knees. Out of the dark came another hooded man who soon revealed himself to be Cesare Borgia. Upon his entrance one of the cloaked soldiers stepped forward to stand beside him and revealed himself to be Captain Micheletto Corella.

"It was Vitellozzo, Cesare, who plotted all of this from the beginning..." da Fermo gave his former comrade up easily.

"Tell me something that I do not know, Oliverotto."

"What else is there to know?"

"Oh—you are blameless?"

"I am guilty of aligning myself with an idiot; a contentious, jealous, impotent Son of Rome! Usurped and outdone in every way by his better—you, Excellency! I am guilty of following him to go against you—another Son of Rome. I am guilty of being a fool," da Fermo concluded through gritted teeth.

Cesare smirked at the man. "Oh...I am privileged to be considered a Son of Rome, now that your end has come. How magnanimous of you, Oliverotto. You are most certainly a fool."

"I beg your mercy, my Lord! The words are so lame at this juncture, but I am sorry for the crimes I've committed against you! Let me rot in prison! Punish me however you will, but let me live! Allow me to make amends, my Lord Borgia!" the man pleaded.

"You are sorry only that you have been captured, Oliverotto," came Cesare's somber pronouncement at him.

They were all startled suddenly by the sound of laughter coming from none other than Vitellozzo Vitelli, struggling to get out words as he rocked maniacally back and forth upon his manacled haunches.

"Where...where..." he erupted into another fit of laughter that made further speech impossible.

Cesare looked around at his solemn henchman, who were none of them moved in the least; but Vitelli's laughing fit had become infectious and he found that he could not suppress his own amused smile. "Vitellozzo—care to let us in on the joke, then?" Cesare smiled down at him.

"Where are you're balls, Oliverotto!" came Vitelli's crazed question before he fell into another debilitating fit of belly laughs.

Da Fermo looked at the man in horror and then up at Cesare with beseeching eyes and lips that were unable to form anymore words.

Cesare only chuckled at them both as he signaled to two of his soldiers. "Pull him up..." he nodded at da Fermo; the soldiers pulled the speechless, confused man up to standing. Cesare unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the man's tattered breeches. "Undo those..." he ordered the men next, "I'm interested to know the answer to that question, as well..." he said through a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow at da Fermo.

"What? Wha...no!" But his protests were, of course, useless; stripped then and bottomless, Cesare approached the mortified man.

"Oliverotto...the ladies shall, indeed, miss you, hmm?" Before the man could even get out his first scream Cesare was upon him and had emasculated him, and then held his bloody parts in his gloved hand; he walked over to Vitellozzo, who had stopped laughing.

"Does this answer your question, Vitellozzo?" Cesare threw da Fermo's bloody pieces into Vitelli's face.

Da Fermo, in shock but not yet given over to full and merciful unconsciousness, lay on the ground, choking up blood through his pain; his eyes, glazed-over and threatening to fail him saw Cesare appear above him, his face grim and disapproving.

"You asked for mercy, I believe? And a quick death is too good for you, sir...too merciful, hmm? But consider yourself lucky, Oliverotto, for time constraints dictate that I dispense with you now so that I may move on next to your comrade there—only...these graves are only...two feet long?" He looked up at Michelleto who gave a guilty shrug at him; he looked at Vitelli and found only pure hatred burning in the man's eyes at him.

"Vitelli? Could you offer a solution, here? No? Come closer to assess, hmm?" The soldiers took the man up roughly and placed him at the other side of da Fermo's grave so that he would have a better view of his comrade's demise.

Cesare turned back to da Fermo. "I believe my men failed miserably at mathematics, hmm? Well, no matter, old friend—" Cesare held his hand out and was delivered an axe by his Captain. "Luckily for you I am a master at subtraction..." he continued as he gripped it firmly with his two hands; he raised it high, prepared to gave a powerful swing of it across da Fermo's legs at the top of his knees, and then cut his eyes quickly over at Vitelli, "...and division..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vitellozzo Vitelli awoke later to a splash of water thrown upon his face only to find that it was not water but a soldier pissing on him.

"Argh..." he tried in vain to turn his head away but to no avail; he'd passed out long before Cesare had finished hacking da Fermo to the bloody chunks necessary to fit into his deep, small grave.

"Sorry about that, Vitellozzo, I had no bucket of water to rouse you," Cesare apologized to him with a smirk upon his face.

"Just fucking kill me already, you sadistic fuck!" Vitelli railed at him.

"Oh, I will. But first you will tell me of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere's part in this endeavor."

Vitelli struggled to rise up in some form from the ground; Cesare nodded to a soldier to assist him.

"I will tell you everything if you would allow me to beseech Pope Alexander Sixtus to grant me plenary indulgence for all of my sins, my Lord..." the man managed to get out through his tightly clenched jaws.

"Ah...I see. For one seeking so much mercy, Vitellozzo, you seem to be very...resentful, I think—and quite angry. Yours is not the demeanor of a man seeking humbly and sincerely the chance for repentance, not at all. No, Vitellozzo, I must have your indictment of Cardinal della Rovere, now, if we are to consider such a request and move forward with your life. You have my attention, Vitellozzo."

Vitellozzo wanted to live but he wanted the Borgia menace eradicated from the face of the Earth, even more; in spite of his previous missteps, della Rovere continued to wield great power; Vitellozzo understood well, at that point, that the Cardinal had never failed them; it was the traitor, Ugo di Cardona who had double-dealt them to their deaths; della Rovere still had influence enough to right the wrong of the Borgia Pope having ever been able to sit upon the Papal Throne, even if he himself would never live to see the Spanish demon's end come to fruition. Vitelli knew, just as surely, that he was a dead man, whether he gave della Rovere up or not and chose easily at that moment, that he would, most definitely, not.

"Burn in hell where you belong, Cesare Borgia, for all that you have done to me and mine—and Florence may join you!"

Cesare was seething inside; he had not one shred of tangible proof proving della Rovere's treasonous activities that, if it existed, would give him the sanction to put the man's life to an end once and for all; and it was ever apparent, that in that one regard, to see their Rome restored and his father deposed, the Sons of Rome still stood together. For all of Cesare's intelligence, and even della Rovere's bungled attempts and ineffective forays into laughable attempts at espionage, he remained as slippery as an eel in one's hand, and as damnably elusive.

"Aside from di Cardona, who else gave us up?"

"Does it really matter now?" Cesare glowered down at him.

"Indulge a dying man," Vitelli hissed the request at him.

"You can thank that fool, Ramiro d 'Orco, for one. He kept meticulous notes there in his palazzo in Cesena."

"Not meticulous enough, hmm?" Vitelli sneered at him.

Cesare knew that he meant the lack of any evidence against the Cardinal; he stood taller before the man and then smiled coldly down at him. "When the day comes, Vitellozzo," Cesare unsheathed his sword, "that I find myself in hell—I shall certainly see you there. Until then..." he took his eyes off of the man, and concentrated it upon his sword, then assaulted the cold night air with exquisite practicing flourishes of it, "there are two more of you left to question; who knows, hmm? What I may yet be able to garner..." Cesare then settled his steely glare back upon the man, and the tip of his sword at the Vitelli's neck "...but right now...how fortunate is it for you that mathematics was not only a better subject for me than anatomy—but my favorite, hmm?"


	71. Counsel

While Cesare awaited word from Florence he set off to Rome to see his father.

"Cesare! Aargh! Well! Explain yourself!" came his father's fury, like a blast from the fires of hell.

"Calm yourself, Holy Father..."

"Don't you talk down to me boy—and don't 'Holy Father' me! Not now! I can still take you with my bare hands and rip you to shreds!"

Rodrigo had received his son earlier that day, and gone through the required protocols of hearing his son's report before the Consistory, and was then receiving the true report in the privacy of his salon.

"You are angry, father, and understandably so, but you also understand why I went about it all the way that I did, let us not have _this_ argument... _again!_ " he blasted back at Rodrigo.

"So what now then, hmm? WHAT?"

"Now, father, you send word to Cardinal Orsini...and relay the happy news that his kinsman are still alive; you invite him here; on the way you have him detained; _while_ he's detained you have his properties seized. I mean for them all to understand that, we will not tolerate any further plots against us and, more importantly—any such treasonous activities will be put down. Immediately.

"I also want you to glory in this bit of news—della Rovere has fled Italy, at last, for France, as I knew that he would."

"I would glory more in the news that he has been found dead—can you do that?" Rodrigo grumbled at him.

"The truest task at hand for you, father, is to determine and groom your eventual successor..."

"Which should have been you!"

"Really? And who would have secured the Romagna for you, hmm? Juan? In what world does a Pope resign? In what world does a Pope ascend before his hair is gray?"

"Primogeniture—"

"Was never going to happen, father!" Cesare cut him off in a rage. "Never! And certainly not with us! Power, father! If you have enough power you can damn a Pope! Isn't that what this Italy teaches us? The world? No matter what you may obtain you are still beholden to the people! The Pope served in Rome; then the Pope served in France; then we had two Popes...one in Rome and one in France! Who made those decisions? Powerful men, father! Other...powerful men. I was not destined to obtain power whilst I wore a scarlet robe upon my back! There is always a war between the Papacy and the Crown and my own Crown must be made!"

"And there it is—your own Crown!"

"Aargh! Have you so easily forgotten how this has all come about? Are you going soft in the head, old man?"

"How dare you..."

"I mean no disrespect, father, it is an honest question and I am horrified to ask it. You did not raise a miller; you did not raise a farmer, or a poet; you did not raise a scholar; you raised your children to become _Condottieri_ ; Princes and Princesses—you endeavored to raise a Pope. I only ever chafed against my robes, father; you allowed me to discard my biretta, and I am eternally grateful to you for releasing me from it, and I could have been a happy soldier.

"But then you decided that you wanted a Kingdom, and _you_ changed my next hat; _you_ told me that you wanted a Kingdom! A Kingdom! A Crown! And not a Papal one, hmm? And it is simply impossible to wear both, is it not? So it was my head upon which you desired to place it; and I accepted your desire without question or complaint. Why? Why do you continue to fault me for trying to secure it?" Cesare exploded at him, nostrils flaring and his voice full of overwhelming exasperation. "Tell me, because I truly don't understand!"

Rodrigo was left speechless; he had never thought about any of it that way, only that his son was advancing away from him; that his own mortality, indeed, was calling his life to an eventual end; reminding him, quite painfully, of just how little control he truly had over anything in his life. He went to his divan and sat down heavily upon it.

"I'm...I'm sorry, Cesare. Your mother told me that I am nothing more than an old, fearful man, now," he sighed his disgust at himself.

"Surely she did not, father..."

"Not so indelicately, my son, but it was the gist; and she's right. I have been so worried, Cesare; and with the worry is the fear; I used to know no fear—and now I...know it every day."

"We all do. And I'm sorry, I did not mean to call you old, father...you are robust and well..."

"And old. Too old to have foisted this desire upon you—so late in _my_ game, Cesare, which so crucially affects yours." _There. I've said it. At last._

Cesare rushed to his father and bent down before him on one knee. "Father—I love you," he kissed Rodrigo's hand. "It is a battle, I will not lie; I have the same fears, and I simply did not wish to trouble you with them; sometimes, I..." but he could not say it aloud; could never voice his truest desire to his father.

"What, my son? My beloved son..."

"Sometimes, I wish that you were still just a Bishop..." Cesare lied; he could never discount the ambitions that had enabled his father to provide the life of luxury that he and his siblings had been able to live. Above him his father smiled.

"Lucrezia said the same thing to me, once, not so long ago."

Cesare smiled then. "Did she?"

"She did, my son. Those _were_ happier, simpler times, weren't they?" Rodrigo admitted.

"And now we are in these times, father," Cesare said gently. "We go forward. We are still, the two of us, working together," Cesare sighed heavily. "Determine your successor, father; vet him out."

"So that he will be ready...when the time comes. Yes, my son, I can say it. I must say it." Rodrigo thought again of his Vannozza and her loving words of counsel, only weeks before.

Cesare kissed his father's hand again. "Now. There are other things to discuss, hmm?"

"Yes...yes..." Rodrigo came back around to himself and then looked deeply into his son's eyes. "Cesare..."

"Yes, father?"

"No man in this world has ever had a son more deeply loved than you. Never—ever—forget that."

"I carry that love with me every waking moment, father, as I hope that you do mine."

Rodrigo nodded, the light of love twinkling in his eyes at his son. "Alright then..." he comported himself, "the next order of business..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turned out that the next order of business was Lucrezia. To ease his father's mind of her disposition, and because he had planned to go anyway, Cesare set off for Ferrara several days later to see her.

"You!"

"I thank you for your happy welcome, Alfonso, it is good to see you, as well," Cesare smirked at the livid man.

Cesare had shown up unannounced and was then waiting for Alfonso in the Government Room, having been escorted there by a terrified servant. Shortly thereafter Alfonso came marching in, and made no attempt at hiding his displeasure.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have your hands full enough these days?" he said as he came to a stop before the murderous Spaniard.

"My hands are never too full to attend to my beloved sister; I'm sure she's waiting with bated breath to hear the latest report from me...as I've always done after every battle, my dear brother-in-law."

Alfonso bristled at Cesare's implication but was also a bit unnerved, for he'd said nothing to his wife about the events at Sinigaglia.

"What is it, Alfonso? You look as white as a sheet, brother."

"I'm not your brother," he sneered at him.

"What's this? No matter," Cesare pushed past him, "just tell me where she is," he said imperiously, ready to head off with or without Alfonso's direction.

"She knows nothing..."

Alfonso's hesitant admission brought Cesare's footstep to an immediate stop; he turned around slowly and glowered at the man a long moment before he walked menacingly back towards him. "She. Knows. Nothing. Really, Alfonso? You are a party to these events and you've told her nothing?" he asked the man, more than outdone.

"Only barely a party, anymore, or so we've been apprised," Alfonso hissed at him. "Guarantors, indeed."

"Ah...well," Cesare began gruffly, doing well to hold his temper in check, "there _are_ still the Orsini to consider, hmm?"

"I'm sure that provides them no comfort against your ambitions. _Excellency_."

Cesare ignored Alfonso's insult. "Well, we have yet to find out, now don't we, Alfonso?"

"I hazard that we'll find out what we always find out about you Borgia—that you are impossible to trust."

That insult Cesare refused to ignore. "Really? Do you feel the same about my sister, then?"

"Your sister is not a part of this, Cesare."

"Well, that is most incorrect, indeed, brother-in-law..." Cesare stepped even closer to the Duke. "But you did not answer my question, Alfonso—do you feel the same about my sister? You must, to have kept this information from her. An answer, please, sir." Cesare demanded quietly, but with the force of a thousand suns burning though his eyes at Alfonso.

"Your sister is with child...Cesare... _my_ child, in case, you're wondering," Alfonso added nastily. "That is the reason I spared her from the reports of your grisly campaign. And to answer your question—sir—she is the only Borgia that I _do_ trust."

Cesare backed away from him, managing somehow to quell the impulse to unsheathe his sword and strike the smirk from upon Alfonso's face with a swift and deadly blow.

"That's right, Cesare..." Alfonso gave him a knowing look, "she loves me..."

"She honors the bargain to provide you an heir," Cesare spat back at him.

"She loves me! In spite of all of your interference and your wish for it not to be so, Cesare Borgia, she loves me! And I love her!" Alfonso roared at him as his hand went instinctively to hilt of his own sword.

Cesare approached him again, slowly, but full of more calm than Alfonso thought him capable of. "And if you loved and trusted her so much, Alfonso d'Este, you would have told her; it is my understanding of my sister that she does not lie, no matter what the peril or consequence to her own self in doing so may mean. You might choose this opportunity to try and redeem yourself, as she loves you so much, hmm? Before you announce me to my sister, _who loves me with her whole heart_ , and may feel quite betrayed by you, otherwise? Yes?" Cesare's unwavering glare was full of venom as he stepped away and waited for Alfonso to comply.

Alfonso, in a quiet rage, mirrored murderous eyes back at the Spaniard, whom he feared not at all; even though it was all that he could do to take his hand away from his scabbard, he would have welcomed the fight between them, and more so than the one that surely awaited him with Lucrezia.

"You delay, Alfonso? Surely you know that I honor you as a man and the Lord of this castle, but we both know that I do not actually...require...your assistance in locating my sister?"

"You smug son-of-a—"

"What is this? Cesare Borgia? Your Excellence, hello!" It was Giulio d'Este who had just entered the room. "It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Lord," he smiled genuinely at the man.

"Giulio, get out of here..." Alfonso hissed at his brother.

Giulio ignored his brother. "Father is in Venice right now, but you probably know this already...congratulations on your conquest of Sinigaglia, my Lord. I'm not very political, mind you, but I do agree that a divided Italy is a weak Italy; I applaud your endeavors to bring it all to fruition. If we could ever stop fighting against ourselves long enough, hmm? Imagine the possibilities!"

"Quiet yourself, Giulio! You said it yourself—you are not political, nor are you informed well-enough to speak on—"

"Fuck you, Alfonso. I am a free man...free to speak my mind, as any other. You see, my Lord?" Giulio turned to the amused countenance of his guest. "Such hot heads, within every Italian household—is it any wonder that we are ever under the threat of foreign marauders? Again, I applaud you, you are a man before your time. Have you seen your dear sister yet? May I just tell you, this lout over here," he pointed at Alfonso, "notwithstanding, and so lucky to have her—well, may I just tell you how much I love her? She has been a Godsend to this court, a true Godsend. Have you seen her yet?"

Before Cesare could get out a word the excited man spoke again. "Well, of course not, you're standing here being bored to death by this one," he sniffed at his brother. "I will be most happy to take you to her...come...she's been ill of late, my Lord, quite taken to her bed, but we are seeing to her every need—must bring this child safely into the world, yes? You do know, don't you?"

"I was just given the happy news by your brother, my Lord," Cesare smiled at him.

"Yes, well, it's been some two weeks, now; we missed her at the year end festivities, even though she planned them all—so magnificent, they were! Oh, she is such a joy—but of course, you've known that all of your life!" the exuberant man gave a happy clap through his chuckle at Cesare.

"Giulio!" 

"What?" Giulio's irritation at his brother was complete.

"Mind yourself—and your own business—" his brother cautioned him.

"It is my business, Alfonso. Now. Are you going to escort our Lord to his dear sister, or shall I have the honor?"

Alfonso, seething with anger and suffering under the expectant looks of both men, replied through gritted teeth, "Follow me, Excellency."

They were upstairs and outside of Alfonso's suite presently. "Please...wait here." He left Cesare, with great reluctance, to the company of his overly-chatty brother to go speak to his wife.

"Alfonso, my love..." Lucrezia beamed at him from the bed after he'd announced himself with a knock upon their door.

"My love...I have something to tell you—Lady Dorotea—would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Of course, my Lord," she rose from Lucrezia's bedside and went to the crib where her daughter was sleeping.

"No, my love, she sleeps so soundly—let her be? And please wait in the salon?"

"Lucrezia...I think—"

"Shh, Alfonso, the babies are sleeping..."

"But—"

"Lucrezia, really, I can take Maria and come back later..." Dorotea sensed Alfonso's nervous agitation and was uneased by it.

"Please wait for me, dearest?"

"Alright, then." Dorotea made haste away.

"What is it, Alfonso? You look a positive fright..."

A short while later Alfonso returned to Cesare and Giulio in the hall. "She's ready to see you, my Lord," he said simply, but made no move to escort him; upon his lack of courtesy Giulio took up the task.

"What _is_ the matter with you, brother? Really...follow _me_ , my Lord..."

Upon reaching his sister in her suite, Giulio and Cesare found Lucrezia sitting up in bed, with Lady Dorotea sitting in her usual chair beside her.

"Brother..." she smiled sweetly up at him.

"Sis..." Cesare did well to keep his feet respectfully planted where they were, betraying their desire to run to her and take her up in his arms. "Lady Dorotea..." he smiled warmly at her. "It does my heart well to know that you've been here with my sister. I thank you. For _everything_."

"Do not thank me, Cesare, for I love you both," she smiled happily back at him.

"My Lady? Would you allow me to escort you out and give our esteemed guest a moment alone with his beloved sister?" Giulio asked her then.

"My Lord, thank you for your kind consideration, your graciousness has been so warming, and appreciated, but I desire my visit with them both." Cesare said, as he stopped Dorotea with a light hand to her arm as she made to pass him. "If you don't mind?"

"Of course, my Lord! As you wish. May I say again that I'm so happy for your sister, and that you are here to see her. I've things to do! Lucrezia, my love, you leave it all to me, yes? I shall plan a lovely banquet feast for your brother tonight—I do hope that you will be well enough...but then I could also prepare a lovely intimate repast for us all on the loggia...let me know, hmm? Oh, I'm rambling! Away with me then!" he dismissed himself and was gone.

Giulio reached the door only to be blocked by his brother, straining to look through the salon at the three remaining inside, but of the course the door to the suite was already closed.

"What on God's earth is your problem? Why aren't you in there?"

Alfonso found that he was unable to form any words.

"What? Well, move then, brother, I have things to do..." Giulio harrumphed as he pushed past him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"His brothers have driven him crazy, I see..." Cesare chuckled when he turned back to his sister.

"Be kind, Cesare, he is a far better man than anyone here gives him credit for being," Dorotea said as she held out her hand for one of his and led him to his sister.

"I don't doubt it. How are you my, Lady?" he asked after he gave her a warm hug.

"I am well."

Cesare looked over at the sleeping babe in the crib. "You and Diego, then?"

"Yes, my love," she beamed at him.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"And Giovanni...Lucrezia, has he found a wife yet?" he joked his sister of the handsome little lad asleep on a soft pallet near the crib, so much bigger than his uncle remembered.

Lucrezia, so overtaken with joy to have her eyes upon Cesare could only manage a happy gasp at him; she rose up out the bed on unsteady legs to greet him.

"And congratulations to you, sis—are you alright? Should you get out bed?" he asked her in alarm, as he rushed to aid her.

Lucrezia was only able to nod her answer at him as she rushed to meet him.

Their kiss, full of passion—and relief—was a long one.

"We must not indulge ourselves too long, Cesare, even with our beloved Dorotea here as chaperone..." she warned him in a whisper when their lips finally parted.

"Damn him...damn the world—he didn't tell you..." he growled his anger at her.

"Shh—not too loud, my love, the children. I found out—Dorotea's husband sent her a letter—a husband's letter to his absent wife, there was nothing in it breaching your security, my love, but that's how I came to know anything at all; I've been worried sick the whole time and too angry at Alfonso to even broach it. I'm not ill, I've just found it easier to quell my anger by spending this dreadful time of waiting and wondering with my sister, here..." she looked over a Dorotea, who blew them both her kiss.

"Worried over what, sis? I told you that I had a plan...long in the works—" he looked over again at Dorotea and smiled at her, "thanks to you, my love." He turned back to Lucrezia. "Did you doubt me?"

"Never you, Cesare, you know that. But King Louis is a snake in the grass! All of that waiting and he sent you only four hundred soldiers? A slap in the face! And everyone, holding back—you told me of the nine thousand lances Florence disallowed the confederates to employ—I trusted none of them to not to betray you, Cesare; your life and the future of my Rodrigo, always hanging in the balance—and my own. And he said nothing...did not confide in me—did not apprise me!" she huffed at her brother, managing somehow to keep her voice hushed.

"He is a coward, Lucrezia."

"Shh!" Lucrezia gave a look over at the children, then back at Cesare. "He is not. But, he is a Roman."

"And we are not?" he whispered back at her.

"We will never be Roman enough. Not for them. Not even my own husband, it seems."

"I should go, my loves—at least to the next room, yes?" Dorotea spoke up delicately then.

Cesare gave an appreciative nod at her as Lucrezia spoke out quietly against it.

"No, my love...Alfonso is most likely outside the door right now, counting down the minutes of this visit—we must go and open it now..." she told them both sadly.

"But there's so much more I want to say, my love, while we have some privacy..." Cesare protested.

"And there's so much more that I want to _do_ , my love, but I dare not."

"Because you love him, Lucrezia?" Cesare asked her then, bracing himself to hear the worst—that she had finally, and truly, made a place in her heart for Alfonso.

"Because I endeavor to prevent a murder in this house—either by your hand—or mine," she replied angrily, her gaze looking far beyond his at her.

"You two..." Dorotea began in a hush as she went over to her friends and ushered them out of the room, "are going to the salon—damn Alfonso. Lock the door and have your time together—I will stay here with the babies...go on..." she insisted, one hand upon her hip and the other on the door handle. "Go!" she mouthed at them.

They obeyed her, but Lucrezia went to the door and did a surprising thing—she opened it, ready to confront Alfonso, who was, indeed, loitering in the hall.

"Will you stand out here continuing to spy on me or will you come in and join us, Alfonso." Her tone let him know that she was still angry about his inability to confide the previously withheld news of her brother's campaign. They had not really been able to talk, with the children sleeping nearby and her brother waiting to see her, and she still did not desire to address the matter as fully as she was capable of.

"I'm sorry, my love, surely you understand—"

"I do _not_ , understand, Alfonso. But I do not wish to speak any further on it now. So. Will you come in or shall we see you at dinner? Cesare has news of my family, amongst other things to impart, and he is also greatly enjoying this opportunity to see Lady Dorotea again."

"Is he, really?" came Alfonso's immediate and condescending reply.

"Yes or no, Alfonso, he doesn't have a lot of time to spend with us here in Ferrara."

 _With 'us'?_ "Damn you, both." Alfonso turned away from her and marched off in a huff.

Lucrezia watched him go and disappear from her sight; she returned to the salon and locked the door quietly behind her, then approached her brother. "We have two hours before dinner, my love..." she said as her hands went to the nape of his neck and took possessive hold of his long, curly locks; she brought his face down to her hers and grazed his lips lightly with her own.

"You would do this now?"

"You mean with Dorotea in the next room?"

"No, not that...does the man truly have your affection, or not, sis? I will not be a party to this if he does..." Cesare protested sincerely, "Really, sis, could this one small transgression really sway you so vehemently and completely against him and back to me?"

"It is not a thing possible in this world, Cesare, for me to be swayed completely against you, you know this." Lucrezia said nothing more as she began the long process of undressing him, all the while peppering parts of his body with feathery, seductive kisses as each new inch of his nakedness became exposed to her; when he was completely naked at last she pushed him gently down to the floor to sitting; dressed only in her sleeping gown she was naked before him in an instant.

Cesare took her hand and pulled her down gently to sit astride him. "Lucrezia..." he moaned his abandon at her, but she was upon him and all he could feel then was his pleasure in her, which sent every other thought from his head and made further words impossible to speak.

"Do you have any other stupid questions for me, my love?" she smiled wickedly at him.

Cesare grunted a lustful little guffaw at her, then gave a gentle shake of his head through his own wicked smile, greatly enjoying his turn at rendering her, by that moment, his speechless, happy captive.


	72. The Price Of Love

As Giulio d'Este busied himself seeing to the preparations for the impromptu banquet in honor of his esteemed in-law, and the hour drew closer to its beginning, Lucrezia and Cesare had reveled in their fevered and happy reunion; they brought it reluctantly to its end at its last possible moment.

"I have so much to tell you, sis..." Cesare said as he began the hurried process of re-dressing himself.

"I know, my love, we shall have more time after the banquet..." Lucrezia assured him; quickly and easily covered back up in her simple chemise, then quietly unlocked the door; she turned her attention to assisting her brother, who was already in his breeches and doing up his codpiece while she collected his other articles from the floor.

"della Rovere has absconded to France..." he smiled at her as she handed him his shirt.

"Can his assassination be arranged, brother?" Lucrezia asked seriously, a smirk upon her face.

Cesare gave a quick kiss to her forehead as he tucked his shirt in. "I'll see what can be done..." he smirked back at her; Lucrezia helped him into his doublet next and then did up the stays for him. "In the meantime, our father begins the task of vetting his successor, lest all of my hard work against the Colonna and Orsini ends up for naught—so many more details I must impart to you before I leave, my love—"

"And I promise that you shall have time to impart them..." Lucrezia helped him next into his breast plate.

"Thank you, sis, I can get the rest..."

Lucrezia gave him a nod and then went to the door of the suite; when she opened it she found Dorotea entertaining Giovanni quietly on his pallet with his top.

"Mama!" he cried out happily when he saw her; he scrambled up quickly and ran to greet her. "Where have you been, mama?" he asked as she scooped him up into her arms, with the hint of a scold in his voice and a disapproving frown upon his face. Lucrezia chuckled and gave a little tweak to his nose, for it was his common complaint whenever she's been too long out of his sight.

"Oh, not that face, my love...mama has a surprise for you, Giovanni..." she said as she whisked him out to the salon; before she could say another word he set eyes upon his uncle and squirmed excitedly within her arms to be free.

_"Zio Cesare!"_

_"Il mio amato nipote..."_ he beamed at the boy as he rushed over and took him over from his mother.

"Come, Cesare, back to the suite..." Lucrezia ushered them both away; no sooner had she settled herself back into the bed than there came a knock upon the salon door.

"Come in," Lucrezia called out loudly.

"My Lady!"

It was Giulio at the door who came sailing in with a wide smile at them all.

"Oh, what a lovely sight you all make!" Giulio said as he clutched at his heart; for there was Lucrezia, looking angelic and much fortified by the loving visit of her brother; and Lord Borgia, holding his sweet nephew in his arms and engaged eye to eye with the little lad, as he listened, enrapt at the boy's every word; and the Lady Dorotea, holding her own little cherub, beginning to work herself into a cry.

"You must excuse me, family, for this one needs my special attention after her long nap, yes?" Dorotea said with a smile as she rose to leave them.

"Of course, my Lady! I trust that your visit with Lord Borgia has been a pleasant one?" Giulio smiled at her.

"Oh yes, my Lord, thank you."

"Very good. I so wanted to sup on the loggia, but the chill is too brisk...our festivities begin in two hours, my Lady, in the banquet hall."

"Thank you dear Giulio, I shall see you all then," she smiled at him and then was gone.

"Giulio? Will you sit with us, now, and enjoy this visit with me?" Lucrezia asked him then.

"Why, I would be honored, my Lady...my Lord—you are well enough to join us, of course? So silly of me not to ask, I am just so excited that your dear brother is here! Surely he is the reason for the restored bloom I see upon your cheeks?"

"He is, my Lord," Lucrezia said simply.

"Oh! It does my heart good to see it...why Alfonso made away with himself I shall never understand..."

Lucrezia stilled her tongue and asked not one word about her husband or made any comment as to his absence.

Giulio went to Cesare and Giovanni then.

_"Zio Giulio!"_ Giovanni held out his arms to the man.

"Oh yes, you wonderful little Prince!" Giulio gave the boy a kiss to his cheek. "Has your sister told you yet, my Lord, about this one's amazing ability with the lute?" he asked Cesare excitedly then.

"No, not—"

"Oh! You must see it with your own eyes!" Giulio went to a corner where the boy's instrument was resting.

"Dear Giulio, we must not have too long of a performance, for we must have some time to prepare for dinner, yes?" Lucrezia cautioned her brother-in-law with her gentle voice and a smile.

"Oh yes, you are quite right, my Lady—Giovanni come and give your loving uncles a brief show, hmm?" he smiled at the boy as he placed the lute into his eager little hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few miles east of town a very different scene was playing out at the palazzo of Ercole d'Este's most-trusted administrator, Gian Romei. An avid gamer and gambler, one could find his doors open and his intimate gambling den at full capacity practically any night of the week; it was a favored spot amongst the Lords of Ferrara and where Alfonso had made haste away to after his last words with Lucrezia. It was also the place he was most-likely to find Chiara. Even though he knew well that she would not be happy to see him, he needed to lay eyes upon her, even if he could do nothing else; and he intended to lose himself in drink and as much frivolity as he could fake, to take his mind away from the futility, and subsequent failure, of trying to find anchor in his wife's heart, let alone his security in the whole of it. By the time Cesare Borgia was enjoying his nephew's delightful little concert at Castello Estense, Alfonso d'Este had found anchor only in his grip upon his cup and the security of his host's free-flowing wine, which had kept it filled.

"This is most unlike him..." Lord Romei noted to his lovely courtesan, Eugenie, who nodded but said nothing of Alfonso, sitting at his own gaming table, losing boisterously at a game of _Frussi_. "I do not wish to embarrass him by calling him out—do you think that you might get Chiara to have a word with him, my love?" he asked her quietly.

"Oh...I..." the woman stuttered, quite flustered by his suggestion.

"I know that they have not...spoken...in quite some time, but surely she could be convinced to put aside her differences and speak to the man? His behavior is most unbecoming..."

Eugenie knew that Romei meant for her to comply and rose reluctantly from her seat beside him. She said nothing more before she headed to her friend, entertaining her own man a few tables away.

"A moment, my Lord, to converse with my dear friend?" Eugenie asked delicately of Chiara's new patron; he looked over at Lord Romei, who gave a respectful nod of his head at him.

"Yes, yes...go ahead, Chiara, fine," the man grumbled at her.

"What do you think his trouble is, Chiara?" Eugenie whispered at her.

"The only thing that could be..." Chiara sniffed indignantly at her friend as they left her table, "—his Borgia wife," she whispered back before they parted from each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I should surely kill you now!" Chiara raged at him; they were at her palazzo where Alfonso sat slumped in a chair in her salon. "Lucky for you my Lord considers you a friend and allowed me to escort you away from the premises, you fool! How dare you, Alfonso! How dare you come traipsing into to my life again in such a manner! If you've cost me my good grace with—"

"And what if I have? I'll gladly have you back, Chiara, damn him!" he said as he rose up from his chair to embrace her.

"Get your stinking self away from me, Alfonso!" she thrust him away from her. "I would not—EVER—have you back! Never!"

"Chiara, please...a little compassion for this fool before you? Just a little?" he asked her dejectedly as he sat back down heavily in his chair.

"Argh! What has the Borgia Bitch done, now?"

Alfonso remained silent.

"Well? Out with it, already!" Chiara waited, hands upon her hips and nostrils flaring almost visible flame. "You've been wearing that old man's beard for so long that you think that you are one, is that it, Alfonso? Let me guess: your alliance has gone irrevocably the way that they all do, except that you actually fell in love with her. She will never love you, not like she loves him...I told you—did I not tell you?"

Chiara's sure words stung Alfonso to his core. "And I have not even told you the whole of it, yet you know already," he said sadly.

"The whole of it? What else could there be?"

Alfonso told her then what had driven him away from home and to his cups; when he was done it was evident that Chiara still had no compassion for him.

"What a typical man, you've turned out to be, Alfonso d'Este, and worse—you just left them there? Alone together? In _your_ house? The Alfonso I used to know would never have done such a thing or left such a bastard still standing and breathing air. What has happened to you?" she asked him in earnest shock and disgust.

"I'm tired, Chiara; you were right and I was so wrong to abandon you..."

"Don't you dare! You're only here right now because you made such a fool of yourself that it was too painful to watch— _your_ friends beseeched _me_ to get you the hell out of there, that's all. Go home, Alfonso; kick the bastard out of your house and set your fucking wife straight. No one knows of your shame right now except me and you; your father is gone, your dullard brother is none the wiser—go home and set her straight and get on with yourself! It's. An. Alliance. Get it through your thick skull and stop trying to make a wife out of her. Or do what is your right and run them both through with your sword!" she railed at him.

"I love you, Chiara...I came to Romei's praying that you would be there..."

"So that you could do what? Ruin me? No, Alfonso. Not again. Never again. My chances to secure my future are so very limited; all she has to do is crook her little finger at you and you'd be like a moth to the flame—and come here to give me the 'speech' again. No. I would have loved you for the rest of my days, Alfonso; would have ever been here. _For you._ But you threw me away. _For her._ Had it not been her it would have been somebody else. Find your somebody else. And straighten yourself up, this is not you."

"Why can't it be me? You're right—I've forgotten what a young man I am because I've had to be _this_ man! For my father! For Ferrara!"

"Spare me your diatribe and angst over your hard life of _noblesse oblige_ , huh? I've not the stomach for it," she said through a cold sneer and a single tear that was cascading down her cheek.

"Chiara, please...your heart is not that cold...you cannot feel this way about me, not truly and deep down..."

"Oh, but I do, Alfonso, for you alone are responsible for turning my heart to stone," she said as she gave an angry swipe at her cheek with one hand and took up a crucifix from her desk with the other, then advanced slowly toward him. "If I am to survive this life, anyway. A small price to pay, a heart, hmm?" Chiara unsheathed the blade within the crucifix and brandished it at Alfonso, her hand trembling from her anger and hurt. "And I thank you, for bringing me back around to that truth, for I must never forget it. Now you must leave Alfonso, and not mistake this trembling hand as a sign of weakness, for Ferrara is only seconds away from losing one of its noble sons..." she raged quietly at him.

Alfonso realized, to his horror, that Chiara was truly, inexorably lost to him; he left her then, in great haste, heartbroken on so many accounts, and more than unsure of his way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banquet was long over and most of the house had retired to slumber. Lucrezia and Cesare hosted Giulio for a long while before Dorotea intervened and asked him to take the cool night air with her, leaving the siblings alone at last to discuss those things which they had not had time to do earlier.

"Your brother-in-law did not find it unusual for your husband not to be home at dinner, I noticed," Cesare said as Lucrezia led him to the Lion's Tower.

"There is always much rancor between them, Cesare, for one reason or another; no, it is not unusual. To anyone in this house."

"Is that the only reason that explains his absence?"

Lucrezia stopped in her tracks to face her brother. "Before this visit of yours? No. He had a woman and he gave her up...quite some time ago—hence, this baby. I'm more than sure he's found a reason to make his return to her tonight."

"I'm sorry, Lucrezia, I—"

"There is nothing for you to apologize for, Cesare. Alfonso is not like us; I doubt that there are any others in the world that are."

"And what are we, sis?"

"Damned, brother, of course."

"No, Lucrezia..."

"Yes. You asked me if he had my affection, Cesare, and he does—but not enough; not enough to fight the forces that rush in and take me over when you come within my sight; I cannot fight them—will not fight them. And so, here we are."

"I worry for you, sis, when I am not with you, for he has proven that he has the capability to be a brute."

"And I have proven my capability at being able to handle him. Now...you have news for me and I wish to hear it...all of it."

As they turned to proceed up the tower stairs they heard the march of heavy footsteps approaching and turned back to find Alfonso advancing upon them.

"Get out of my house, Cesare Borgia," he leveled his anger at the man through gritted teeth and the sudden flash of his sword, whipping through the air one moment, its sharp tip resting ever-so-lightly against Cesare's jugular the next.

Cesare glared unflinchingly at the man even though every muscle in his arm ached to journey to the hilt of his own, for he would happily suffer any cut that lead to his own sword finding anchor in the man's heart, and his life bleeding out upon the floor.

"Do it, Cesare...I want you to..." Alfonso dared him.

"Alfonso!" Lucrezia screamed out as she made to get between them.

"You..." he hissed at her, never taking his eyes off of Cesare, "vacate my rooms, this night! Leave even a hint of yourself behind and I will—"

"You will do nothing to her, Alfonso," Cesare warned him.

"I will do what I like—as is my RIGHT as her HUSBAND! YOU BORGIA FUCK!"

"Alfonso!"

"If you love your bastard brother so much...want him to live to see the dawn...then you will tell him to leave...NOW, Lucrezia! This is MY house, that you desecrate with your very presence; you have things that you want to discuss? Talk to me then, of our annual tribute to the Church, which has yet to be discounted; or maybe you would like to discuss the harbor of Cesenatico...or Pieve—none of which we have yet received from you or His Holiness to date. Huh? Or was her dowry a lie, like everything else? What, you say? I hear no words... _Lord_ Borgia," Alfonso spat the word at him.

"Alfonso, stop this—Cesare will leave..."

Cesare cut angry eyes at his sister. _Don't back down to him, sis, leave him to me..._

"Put down your sword, Alfonso..." she pleaded at him once more, ignoring the look in her brother's eyes at her.

"Do not speak to me, whore! Get out of my sight!"

It was that moment that Cesare's body found its impulses impossible to ignore another minute longer; Alfonso drew first blood as Cesare's hand went to his hilt and came out of his scabbard in a flash, singing its promise of death and destruction as he stepped back and cut in toward Alfonso's neck; but Alfonso easily stopped the strike with his cross guard, stepped off line and counter-attacked from the side, easily finding Cesare's sure and open spot.

"What's wrong, Cesare? Lost your skill at hand-to-hand combat? So busy hiding behind your cannon, and war machines? I could have killed you twice already!" Alfonso taunted him as the edge of his sword rested against Cesare's neck.

"And why haven't you, then?" Cesare grunted at him.

"Because I am not a barbarian, like yourself; though you deserve death I will allow you one last chance to go on your way and never return here. Try me again if you are tired of life."

"Cesare...Alfonso...please..." Lucrezia was crying and near hysteria at that point.

"Then she comes with me, Alfonso, to her safety and your deliverance of her."

"Seconds away from death and still you try to order me about? She stays."

"As your hostage? I think not."

"Think what you like. This is your last chance, Borgia: get the fuck out of MY HOUSE!"

"Cesare! Just go, please! I'll be alright!" Lucrezia wanted to go to him but dared not. "Please, brother..."

"And take that other whore with you!"

"No, Alfonso, not Dorotea..."

"Her visit—is over. _Wife,_ " Alfonso hissed at her.

Trembling violently and more than undone Lucrezia made her fearful steps away with her brother as Alfonso's sword guided Cesare away from the stairs and out of the room; he marched Cesare out to the drawbridge, where they kept murderous eyes upon each other, and waited for Dorotea to arrive. She came presently, still in her nightgown, with fearful arms wrapped about her baby, crying tears for Lucrezia and herself equally. The women kissed each other sadly as Dorotea looked about for a carriage.

"How...how am I to—"

"I'll have your things sent to you—" Alfonso informed her coldly.

"It is night, my Lord; it is _winter_...my baby..." Dorotea began, scandalized and utterly shocked at Alfonso's callousness.

"I'm sure that you'll figure yourself out. You and your... _good friend_ , here," Alfonso sniffed at them both.

"Come, Dorotea, you'll be alright..." Cesare said as he made toward his horse; Lucrezia held Maria while he helped Dorotea to mount, then handed her child to her.

"I'm so sorry, my love..." Lucrezia's tears were unstoppable. "Cesare..." she made a move toward him.

"Don't you dare touch him." Alfonso's warning stopped her cold.

"It's alright, sis," Cesare declared boldly; he mounted his horse and gave one final furious and hateful glare at Alfonso, then rode off into the night with his two charges.

Alfonso waited for them to disappear from sight and then turned on Lucrezia. "You...you allowed your brother's vile Borgia dick into you again, didn't you? To poison your womb and violate MY baby? Contaminate...MY...baby? It might as well be Borgia, now, you bastard bitch!" he screamed at her.

Lucrezia backed away from him, silent; terrified; wishing then with all of her heart that she had gone away with her brother.

"You were headed to the tower, I believe? To fuck your brother again, I'm sure, hmm? To fuck your brother..." he accused her again, a mad, faraway, look in his eyes.

"Alfonso...I...I'm—"

"SHUT YOUR WHORING, LYING, VILE MOUTH!" he exploded at her. "Murder is too good for either of you; but Cesare Borgia will surely get his just reward, of that I am certain; he and your father, as well. As for you..." he grabbed her roughly by the arm and drug her back into the castle.

"Alfonso! Let me go!" she struggled against him in vain.

"You shall occupy new rooms, indeed..."

Down they went, from the first floor to the dungeons in the basement below.

"No, Alfonso!"

But he had found the one he wanted and had already pushed her down through its low iron door and inside of it. "I was lucky enough to banish Giulio here, once...who knows? He may be joining you and very soon. At least, a few doors down, yes?"

Lucrezia looked about the dank, dark stone cubicle and fresh tears began to fall; the rough cobblestones were cold through her thin slippers, and the only thing that quelled the bile threatening to rise up and find release from her stomach was the little bit of air coming through the little rusty door.

"You two are such fast friends, after all...so much in common; and you've been such a champion to him all of these short years; I think you'll like it as much as he did. And if _you're_ very lucky, _wife_ , I shall not forget about you, hmm? I'm sure that you'll enjoy your next days thinking about your brother and all of that passion that burns within you for him; all of that passion you share at every possible opportunity—the passion that you shared with him in my bed..."

"Alfonso, you cannot do this... Giovanni—"

"You need not worry about Giovanni. Good night, now, my love. Pleasant dreams." With that Alfonso made to leave her; he had stepped up through the door and had almost closed it when he stopped and popped his head back in. "Oh, by the way—you may scream all that you like, my love, you'll disturb no one; no one at all," he smiled at her.

Without another word he was gone and the door shut tightly after him; with him went the last sliver of light. Lucrezia heard next the clanking of chains; the click of the key in the padlock; the sound of its removal; and then nothing as she stood frozen in her black hell, afraid to move or lean upon the wall, or sit upon the floor; afraid that she would never find respite in anything warm or comforting ever again; afraid that she would never see Giovanni or Rodrigo again; nor the doomed one in her womb at all; afraid that she was paying the price, finally, for the unholy love of her brother and would die for her sins, knowing that no law in the land would ever call it murder.


	73. Equally and Only

Outside of the cell Alfonso made quick, angry steps away through the narrow passage leading out of the basement and up to the first floor; all he could see in his mind's eye was the two of them, his wife and her brother, locked together in their torrid, naked embrace; entangled in the sheets upon his own bed while Lady Dorotea did what? Watched? _Joined them, perhaps..._ his wounded ego pressed on. _No...surely she left them alone to their unholy, greedy passion, for the children had been there...the children...Giovanni..._

The thought of Giovanni stopped Alfonso in his tracks. _The boy has nothing to do with this...how would I ever explain his mother's disappearance? To him or anyone else? Argh! If not for the child I would surely leave her there! It is my right as a husband! Italian law is clearly on my side, here, child or no child..._

Alfonso flung himself against the wall the, lost in his torment, torn between his rage against Lucrezia and Cesare, and the genuine love he had come feel for Giovanni over the past months. He thought next of his father, who had known of the rumors that had swirled throughout all of Italy for years about the Borgia siblings, but not that Alfonso had known them to be true and had married the woman, regardless; for that fact alone he knew that there was the chance that his father would have no sympathy for him, at all; however, she was carrying the heir to the duchy in her belly—whose life Alfonso was jeopardizing every moment that Lucrezia remained in her cold, unsanitary cell. If the child died as the result of it _that_ was a thing his father would never forgive him for. _My own child...my child does not deserve such a fate, even though she surely does..._

Alfonso tore himself away from the wall, determined to do what he must do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had seemed like an eternity, those dark, silent minutes, that Lucrezia had stood immobile and in shock; suddenly she heard the clanking of keys again, and the padlock spring open. Had Cesare come back? Had he run her monstrous husband through with his sword and killed him? Oh God, how she hoped so. The door opened then, with a frantic, desperate yank upon it; the dim, blue light of night streamed in suddenly and when her eyes adjusted properly, past the hand that was held out to her and on to the man who stepped then down into the cell, she saw that it was Alfonso.

"Lucrezia...please, come with me..."

Had the light in the cell been better, and well enough for Alfonso to see the look in Lucrezia's eyes at him, he might very well have retreated from her and left her for good; for in them was her utter contempt and disappointment that it was her husband and not her brother; she turned away from him, too undone to speak words.

"Lucrezia..."

"I hear no regret in your voice, Alfonso...so good of you to remain true to yourself, thank you."

"Lucrezia, please!" Alfonso erupted at her, "What would I do? What might I do? Even I cannot answer that question anymore, where you are concerned! And please know, dear lady, that murder... would not be enough!"

"Yet you would release me now? To what do I owe?"

"Thank your children—Giovanni and the one in your womb—the only saving grace about you that has allowed me to unlock this door," came his voice at her then, calm, cold and full of venom.

"Yes, and we would need to be clear about that, would we not..." It was not a question.

"Just come out of this wretched cell! And do not attempt to lay blame anywhere near my feet—brother-fucker! Adulteress!" Alfonso railed at her.

Lucrezia turned and made haste toward the door lest the beast changed his mind; up and out she went, without his aid, desperate for fresh air and her escape from him. The magnitude of her circumstance hit her suddenly, like a bolt of lightning from the sky that had found its target in her innards; she felt the bile rising up along with all of the other contents of her stomach and was helpless to stop the inevitable as she faltered on the path and stumbled, then went down upon her knees; when Alfonso came toward her and offered her his help she waved him away.

"Let me help you inside, at least, Lucrezia..."

"Go away from—" Before she could finish her sentence Lucrezia was hit by another black, rolling wave of nausea; she felt her knees give out from underneath herself completely and then felt nothing at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lucrezia awakened she was back in her bed—rather, Alfonso's bed—clean, dressed in fresh chemise and under the cover; she felt a hand upon her own and looked to find that it belonged to Cesare.

"Cesare? Cesare? Am I dreaming? Or coming out of a horrid nightmare? Brother, is it really you?"

"It is, sis—are you alright?" His concerned eyes, so full of love, bore into her own.

"I do not know yet..." She swept the room with her eyes then and found Alfonso, standing at the door with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed about his chest; she noticed also that there was a fresh cut and a bruise above his left brow that had not been there the last time she had set eyes upon him; she focused closely on her brother then and saw that his own left cheekbone was bruised.

Cesare became aware of her scrutinizing glare at them both and gave only the slightest shake of his head at her and a reassuring squeeze to her hand to let her know that he was alright. "Alfonso sent a party for us, Dorotea and me—she has collected her things and is on her way, with proper escort for herself and her babe, back to Venice," he informed her.

"So the nightmare is true..." she said, totally aghast.

"Did he harm you, sis?" Cesare asked her boldly, undaunted by the presence of her angry husband.

Lucrezia looked over again at Alfonso and saw nothing in his eyes at her: not a warning, to keep his vile act a secret from her brother, nor fear, if she decided to divulge it; neither was there was any real compassion in them for her, in spite of her obvious weakened state; there was nothing in them except cold, dead resignation as to what their relationship to each other truly was, and the seeming invitation—the dare—to tell her brother the truth.

Cesare cut his eyes back over his shoulder at Alfonso to see if he was inflicting his silent influence upon his sister, but saw no such evidence that she was being coerced when he looked back at her. "Lucrezia? I asked you a question—did he harm you?"

They had obviously come to blows already; Lucrezia knew that the truth would set them both to battle again, to more blood; to someone's sure demise; she knew that a lie would shackle her to the prison that was her marriage. With all of her heart she yearned to be free, to gather up Giovanni and leave Alfonso, and go anywhere that wasn't Ferrara or Rome, for she could not go home—and she could neither go with Cesare, who had yet to secure the dynasty that their father endeavored.

"Lucrezia..."

"I am fine, brother, my husband has not harmed me...pregnancy, that's all—always difficult for me at this time, Cesare, you know that," she lied to him through a tired smile.

"Lucrezia, all you have to do is say the word—"

"That's enough, Cesare! Say your goodbyes and be on your vile way!" Alfonso yelled at him from across the room.

"Lucrezia, in spite of everything and because she loves us both, Dorotea is ever your beloved sister..." Cesare's whispered words came at her in a rush, "should you ever have need of me you get word to her and it shall get to me, do you understand?"

Lucrezia nodded at him. "Goodbye, Cesare."

Her sad, blunt dismissal hurt his heart deeply, but Cesare understood completely; there was so much he needed to tell her, impossible then because Alfonso would permit them no time alone; that the two men had survived each other up to that point was a miracle in itself and Alfonso had granted him only minutes to see Lucrezia and then go.

He wanted to embrace her; to kiss her, boldly and without apology; hug her, at least, as any brother would normally be able to do; but their relationship was not normal and it was not his wish to provoke her husband further or incite more of Alfonso's ill will against her.

"Goodbye, Lucrezia." He gave the back of her hand a chaste kiss, then rose up from her bedside; under the brave, resolute gaze of his sister, and the hateful one of her husband, Cesare left her, never to set foot in Ferrara again.

Lucrezia looked away from the door her brother had disappeared out of and past her sullen husband standing beside it; she cast her gaze forlornly over to the window; the clouds in the sky outside, as dark as the one settling over and into her heart, only added to her disorientation. "What is the hour, Alfonso?"

"Near noon."

"I have been out all of this time?"

"Yes."

"And in this time you gathered your wits about yourself and sent an escort for my Lady and Cesare...allowed him to come and say goodbye."

"I did."

"Thank you, Alfonso."

In Lucrezia's tone Alfonso heard true relief and gratitude, enough so that he finally looked over at her. "I am not swayed by your kind 'thank you'."

"It was not meant to sway you, Alfonso."

"Are you feeling better?"

"I am, thank you."

"I care not about you, but my child—I've sent for the medic...he should be here shortly."

Lucrezia looked down at her lap and gave a sad, knowing little shake of her head. "Yes, and so it shall be. Very well." Lucrezia looked up from her lap then and at her husband with dead eyes. "At least you still have your Chiara."

Alfonso walked over to the bed and sat beside her. "No, thanks to you and your brother, I do _not_ have my Chiara," he hissed at her. "But I shall rectify the condition of my lonely bed, and soon, _wife_ , be assured of that. As a matter of fact, I think that I should like to re-appoint Lady Lucia to attend to you—and to me—surely you wouldn't object? There are none better than my Chiara, but Lucia was definitely a very close second. Would that please you? She did admire you so..."

Lucrezia ignored his taunt at her. "Where is Giovanni?"

"Yes, you are quite the pragmatist, aren't you? Well, you're not completely off the hook, Lucrezia, I shall have to fit you in again at some point for at least one more child or two, hmm?"

Lucrezia was beyond hurt at that point but her ire was rising over his refusal to answer her question about her son.

Alfonso found her irritation amusing. "Oh! What a look...believe me, Lucrezia, the prospect of touching you again displeases me as much as it displeases you."

"Where is Giovanni?" she asked again, managing somehow to remain calm.

"Yes, then. At play with the other children; when the medic is done with his examination of you I shall have him sent in."

"Thank you."

"Stop thanking me, I love him, too; we may have reneged on many agreements made between us, but I meant it when I told you that I never wanted to see a mother parted from her child, Lucrezia; Giovanni and this one here," he nodded at her belly, "are equally and only the reasons you draw breath in this world on this day." Alfonso rose up from the bed then. "And you may now also put aside any notion, you and Cardinal Bembo, of ever trying to pit my father against me with your sorry intelligence about my brother, especially after this child is born, Lucrezia—for, even though I would never wish to see a child separated from his mother, mothers do, sometimes, die young." With that Alfonso left her.


	74. Appointments

Cesare returned to Rome to find his father anxiously awaiting him, eager to hear news of Lucrezia and impart some news of his own.

"Cardinal Sforza..." Cesare gave a bow of his head at the man.

"Excellency," Ascanio nodded back at him; he and Rodrigo had just concluded a brief meeting with the Consistory and were discussing various matters at hand when Cesare entered his father's office.

"Welcome home, Cesare!" Rodrigo rose from his seat to go and greet his son with a warm hug. "Come with Us, for your mother awaits Us in Our apartment..." he said after he released Cesare from his embrace, then led him away from his office and the curious eyes of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza.

"We shall not be long, Ascanio," Rodrigo assured the man as he looked back over his shoulder before he and his son disappeared from view.

"Cesare! Oh, my love!" Vannozza rushed to her son and gave him her loving hug and kiss before he was barely even into Rodrigo's salon.

"Hello, mother..."

Vannozza chuckled at the puzzled look upon her son's face. "Surely you must know that your father told me that you were off to Ferrara to see our darling Lucrezia and that you were returning today? Come sit down, I want to hear everything..."

Rodrigo only smiled as he trailed behind them and then took a seat in his armchair across from the divan that Cesare and Vannozza settled themselves upon.

"How is she, Cesare? Is she well? How is Giovanni? I've had no letters from her recently, since well before Christmas...so not like her—is everything alright?" Vannozza's smile at him was full of a mother's worry.

"Calm yourself, mother—she is...well..." Cesare lied. "She is with child."

"Oh!" Vannozza's hands went to her heart and then her mouth in shocked joy.

"Ah! This is wonderful news, indeed, Cesare! Most wonderful! How does she fare? How far along is she?" Rodrigo asked then.

"Near to three months, now, she said."

"So she and Alfonso have finally and truly settled into married life, at last; I know that he and old Ercole must be ecstatic..." Vannozza sighed at both of her men. "And Giovanni? How is Giovanni?"

A smile appeared on Cesare's face instantly as he thought back to the boy. "Giovanni is ever a wonder; he has been tutored by your Cardinal Bembo, father, after his own natural talent with the lute was discovered—he is a little prodigy."

"Is that right? So, he shall be a musician, hmm?"

"Maybe. Unless a truer calling awaits him."

"Oh, fuck a truer calling," Vannozza grunted at them both, "let the boy be musician, then; a fine, happy, accomplished musician, far removed from politics and fighting...and red robes..."

The look on Cesare's face at his mother was more than without insult as he smiled his agreement at her.

"Vannozza!" Rodrigo grumbled at her.

"I mean no disrespect, to either of you, my love, but really, it is a source of comfort to think of Lucrezia's first born remaining ever close to her at court, and serving Ferrara as an esteemed artiste in his own right, that's all. It would be an honorable outcome for him."

"Father, what has been your delay in releasing the d'Este's from their annual tribute to the Church? And delivering ownership of the harbors of Pieve and Cesenatico to them?"

"What? Must you really ask? Why, for the revenue, of course, necessary to keep your campaign funded..." he answered his son indignantly.

"Then we must see our way to secure revenues from other sources—we must honor Lucrezia's dowry if we desire not to see Ferrara lose favor with her."

"Lose favor? She carries the heir to the duchy within her, now, how would she ever lose favor with Ferrara?" Rodrigo scoffed at his son.

"It is her dowry, father, promised and now to be delivered, without further haste."

"Is there a problem?"

"There will most certainly be one if you continue to delay, father. What of Cardinal Orsini? The acquisition of his holdings will more than line our coffers sufficiently, yes?" came his stern question at Rodrigo.

Rodrigo grumbled his reluctant assurance at Cesare.

"Well? Have they been secured, then?"

"Yes—Cardinal Orsini has been detained and his properties seized."

"Very good. Then I must get back to Sinigaglia and...have my business finished with the Duke of Gravina and Paolo Orsini, for Tuscany awaits us now, father."

Vannozza, more than put off by the political turn the conversation had taken, spoke up. "Is that it, Cesare? You have no other news to impart of our Lucrezia?"

"I did not have enough time with her, mother, to discuss all of the things that I wished to," he said truthfully.

The sadness that lingered in his words at her proved that her son's disappointment was as true as her own. "Oh, I am sorry, Cesare, I understand that your visit to her was just only worked in at the last moment and that you have so many other matters to concentrate your attentions upon," she apologized, "thank you for the news, I am happy to hear that my darling girl is happy."

Cesare tried hard to dispel the forlorn look that was surely upon his face at her, because his darling girl was far from happy; and it pained his heart deeply that he would never be able to confide in his mother and that the truth was a thing for her to be spared from in the bargain; he needed to speak more about Lucrezia as much as his mother needed to hear more of her; needed to confirm that it was not all just a figment of his imagination, that had started so beautifully and then ended so tragically; he needed to try and dispel his fears and worries for his sister, even if he had to weave the very careful truth through his own invented lies to his mother in order to do so.

"No mother, the apology is mine; nothing is more important than our darling girl, hmm? Sit with me a moment longer while I tell you how radiant she looked, and of the happy things she was able to impart to me before I left, yes, my love?"

"Cesare, we have many matters to discuss before you away..." came his father's irritated voice at them both as he rose up from his seat, for he was more than satisfied with what he had heard of his daughter and wished to move on to all of the other matters of import.

"And we shall discuss them..." came Cesare's clipped, quiet words as he turned away from his mother and gave Rodrigo a stern look, "...father."

"Fine...fine...I shall be in my office, Cesare, when you are done here; I do have some issues to finish up with Cardinal Sforza."

"I'll not keep him long, Rodrigo," Vannozza gave him a look of her appreciation, which softened Rodrigo's heart; without another word he went and gave a loving kiss to her forehead and then left them.

Almost an hour later Cesare rejoined his father in his office.

"Come in Cesare, We are just finishing up with Cardinal Sforza..." Rodrigo waved his son over from the door, then turned his attention back to Ascanio. "You understand then?"

"Yes, Holiness, I shall get right to it." Ascanio gave a small bow at them both and left the pair.

"What was that all about?"

"Yes...We are preparing to appoint a new cardinal protector of England..."

"Oh? Is there a problem with the current one?"

"Well, you asked Us to groom Our future replacement, did you not? We have thought of little else since your departure to Ferrara and We have settled Ourselves quite firmly upon Cardinal Piccolomini, who must be freed up from his appointment accordingly."

"I see. Are you sure?"

"We are sure that upon Our demise he will carry out Our visions for Rome—and more importantly, for you—without question. We have spoken, most confidentially, of course, and We are comforted by Our choice, Cesare. It is all quite some way off, of course, but it is never too soon to cement Our loyalties within the Curia, hmm? His is a strong voice within the Consistory and he can also greatly help Us root out remaining sympathizers of our dearly departed della Rovere, so that We may begin replacing _them_ , as well. You know the process."

"Indeed I do," Cesare harrumphed at his father. "A lengthy one, always. Well, congratulations to you then, two less things to worry about. When are you looking to have his replacement installed? And who is he?"

"Yes...Adriano Castellesi da Corneto; I shall have him made Cardinal by May..."

"And he was recommended by?"

"A most handsome sum to secure his elevation—and the fact that he has been a favorite of Ours for many years now. It is all coming together splendidly, Cesare. All that We need now is Tuscany, and you are on the sure path to dominion over Her."

"Yes, well, let's not be too celebratory yet, Holy Father."

"Yes, Our son, who never has time for celebration. Well, when you do secure Tuscany We shall not be deprived of the celebration—nor will We allow you to be, hmm?"

"We shall speak of such things when they come to fruition, Holy Father," Cesare replied tersely.

Rodrigo only chuckled at his cautious son.

"Is there anything else, Holy Father?"

"No, We think that everything is well-settled, hmm?" Rodrigo was prepared then to bid his son farewell and rose from his seat to do so.

"Lucrezia's dowry."

Rodrigo's steps away from his desk were stilled. "Yes?"

"You will see to the disposition of its remainder."

"Is there a problem, Cesare? Are the d'Este's demanding—"

" _I_...am demanding, Holy Father."

"What?" Rodrigo found it impossible to mask his outrage. "You?"

"Yes...me. In regards to this matter now is not the time to be greedy, Holy Father. I have your promise?"

"For the last time, Cesare, is Lucrezia alright? Tell me!"

"I will tell you that we should not endeavor to have the good Duchess of Ferrara impugned in any way, by her Ferrarese family or her subjects. Ever. She is more than successfully doing her part to represent herself, her family, both d'Este _and_ Borgia, in her manner, which continues to shine its glorious light upon us all—let us not dishonor her, or dishonor ourselves, by failing to enforce our agreement. Your promise, Holy Father?"

"Yes...yes, Cesare...right away."

"Thank you, Holy Father. I must go, then."

"Yes, Cesare..." Rodrigo went to his son and gave him a hug and kiss upon his cheek. "You are right, We shall not delay another moment. Godspeed to you."

Cesare finally gave his father a warm smile and then left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare returned to Sinigaglia and promptly had his remaining captives executed. The demonstration of his power did indeed cause its intended effect, throughout Tuscany and all of the Romagna. So devastating was its impact that he found a missive awaiting him that had come from Florence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"At last, Leonardo, you have seen the light! Thank God in His heaven!" Gian sighed as he clasped his hands together at his chest in great relief, watching as Leonardo signed his brief letter to the Borgia Madman.

News had spread rapidly throughout Italy of Borgia's conquest at Sinigaglia, and the gruesome demise of the unfortunate confederates that had dared to cross him; rumors abounded as to who actually carried out the executions, but rumors were all that they were destined to be, for Cesare had left no tangible proof of his involvement, which served only to cement within many minds that the man was simply the Devil himself. Yet, for as many that would call him thus, there were just as many who still found favor in his then current administrations, and the prospect of any new ones. Leonardo da Vinci was of the former camp and not the latter.

"I told you, Leonardo, he is a beast..." Gian continued.

"Maybe, maybe not, Gian—for what part did I play in this carnage? Is he to blame, solely? I think not..."

"Leonardo, how could you have known?"

"How could I have _not_ known, Gian? I designed instruments of war—and could design more! But no man shall ever be privy to the horrific masterpieces that reside here..." Leonardo put a finger to his temple, "ever again. I was a fool to think that it was only the science, Gian, that mattered; that compelled me; such science must never be implemented again—at least not from anything this mind has wrought—never again...it has all been a grotesque error, Gian; the evil nature of men makes this an impossible endeavor...one that I will never undertake again..."

Leonardo and Gian were back in Cesena, packing up only their most necessary belongings. It pained Gian's heart to see his lover so distraught, for Leonardo had always taken such pride in all of his inventions; since the subsequent events under Borgia's employ, and especially after the events at Sinigaglia, Leonardo's works had become a pure source of shame; he had become despondent and not his usual self at all, voicing his fears to Gian that Borgia would commission from him some new weapon from hell—and more fearful that he could produce it and see it put to use.

So disgusted with Cesare Borgia he was, that even Leonardo's architectural, non war-related works had begun to suffer, for the man had become incapable of finishing anything. In spite of his bout of inability he had written to the Guild of Saint Luke in Florence, seeking reinstatement. "I suppose that after my recent employ the Guild shall have a long, hard think on my request," Leonardo had told Gian weeks earlier, "but I shall hold out hope, nonetheless..." It was to Florence that Leonardo planned to return and wait out their response, and he and Gian had cleared out of his palazzo in Cesena shortly after Cesare had left for Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is it what I think it is, Excellency?"

"Yes, Micheletto..." Cesare was reading the missive addressed from Leonardo da Vinci. "He has most assuredly tendered his resignation."

"As we knew that he would, hmm? But no matter—we are left with a fine arsenal and men who know how operate and maintain it—and women—a woman, anyway."

Of course Micheletto was referring to Vittoria, already a master in her own right, but who had learned invaluable lessons from the designs of da Vinci, and whom Cesare had already decided, long before that day, that he would appoint as his military engineer if da Vinci were to leave him.

"Is she secure, Micheletto?"

"Still, Excellency, though I dare say she has yet to drop her guise, at least to my knowledge."

"Do any of the men yet suspect?"

"If any have they've been unable to get past my man to find out and survive the knowledge."

"Very good, for I would have her ever safe."

"Of course, Excellency."

Cesare gave a derisive little chuckle at himself. "You know, I have never seen her true visage my own self; she must be a beauty to have caught my father's eye through her disguise."

"Surely."

"Maybe it is for the best that I let that sleeping dog lie, hmm?"

Micheletto said nothing.

"Yes...well...other matters, then."

"Yes, other matters."

"I have my own missives to prepare; to da Vinci, first, for I begrudge him not, hmm?" Cesare sat down at the table in his tent. And then one to Lady Carracciuola—your best man to deliver that one, Micheletto..." he said as he gathered parchment, quill and ink.

"Of course."

"And one to Machiavelli, for I desire a meeting; there are not many on this earth that I enjoy hearing 'I told you so' from, but he is, strangely, one of them..." Cesare chuckled to himself as he began writing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word Alfonso d'Este did reinstate Lady Lucia Fantuzzi as Lucrezia's Lady-in-Waiting, the next day after Cesare's departure. The nervous girl reported to her mistress promptly that morning after breakfast, where Lucrezia waited for her in Alfonso's salon.

"My Lady, it is so good to see you again," Lucia curtsied at Lucrezia, who was standing near the hearth. "Thank you for calling me back to your service, I am honored."

"Let us not play that game, Lucia. You know that it is not I who called you back here, but your Lord."

Lucia's nervousness gave way to her full apology. "I am so sorry, my Lady, but I was most surprised at his summons, myself...I have heard only the most wonderful things about you both, these past months—that you are with child—I was sure that you'd found your happiness in each other, happy to know that your circumstance had changed from the one upon your arrival after your wedding..." the girl let rip in a torrent.

"That is neither here nor there, now; I simply wish for us to be clear about your duties here, for I have secured my own trusted lady to attend to me and a nursemaid for my son, Giovanni—your duties shall have absolutely nothing to do with theirs; your duties are to my husband and my husband alone, do you understand?"

"But my Lady, it was never my intent to—"

"Lucia, you have been at court here since you were a child, I understand; you attended Lady Anna; I am sure that when she died romantic thoughts of Alfonso blossomed long before they were ever acted upon; I am sure that when my husband came to you, at last, during my absent to Rome, his advances upon you were more than welcomed by you. So, please do not stand here and play the innocent middle-woman.

"Upon my return from Rome I was none the wiser of you and Alfonso until I took notice of the Marquessa's contempt for you. Even then I held no animosity toward you and it was not I who had you dismissed. But the reason for your reinstatement is a personal effront against me, although it is none of your doing. However, in order that I may maintain my manners—and my temper—you shall do well to make successful effort of staying away from me and my child, as well as this one coming, at all possible costs—do you understand me?"

It was impossible for Lucia to ignore the chilling look in Lucrezia's eyes, even though her words were respectful and pleasant. "Yes, my Lady," the dejected girl answered her.

"Only at the most formal events at court will you take your place beside me."

"Yes, my Lady."

"Keep my husband happy, Lucia, which will keep me the same. You are dismissed."

Some hours later Alfonso stormed into their salon.

"What is this? You order my lady about in such a manner?"

"Well, Alfonso, she is my lady-in-waiting—I do have some say over her actions."

"You do not! She does as I command and I command her to attend to you! Instead she quakes in her boots and disobeys me!"

"And I commanded her to attend to _you_ , Alfonso. You may wish to rub her in my face, but would it not be more enjoyable to you if that pleasure was hers to visit upon you alone?"

"You insufferable—"

"May I move back to my old apartment now? Surely you would like me gone from these sacred environs."

"You most certainly may not. Father is far too ecstatic about this child and our 'happy' marriage—I will not upset him with an obvious show of discord between us and he has returned from Venice. Where are you going? I'm not done with you—" came his furious question as she made to walk away from him.

"I am done with you, Alfonso, and it is time to prepare Giovanni's dinner."

"You leave when I tell you to leave."

"Oh? This again? Your bullying tactics have grown tiresome, Alfonso, can you think of none better?"

"Of course I can; I shall call Lucia to our suite tonight and make you watch us fuck—is that inventive enough for you!"

"Please make it as early as possible, my love, for this one..." she rubbed her belly lightly, "does require me to get rest, sometimes, you know." With that Lucrezia left her fuming husband.


	75. Conundrum

Supper the night of Ercole's return home was a quiet and intimate affair. For a good five minutes.

"I'm so sorry Lucrezia still isn't feeling well—has she been attended to by the medic recently? Is the pregnancy progressing safely for herself and the child?"

"The medic saw her just this afternoon, father; Lucrezia and baby are well, she just requires a little extra rest," came the happy report from Giulio as he sliced into the roast lamb on his plate.

"I believe Father was talking to me," Alfonso said stiffly under his breath at his brother. "You might try getting a wife of your own to concern yourself with and stay out of my business with mine."

"Lucrezia is my friend, you insufferable ass—and I would have had a wife of my own, by now, in the person of Angela Borgia, had it not been for the interference of _you and_ Ippolito," Giulio shot back at him without so much as a glance in his brother's direction.

"This? Again? You delusional fool, Angela wants nothing to do with you, get it through that simple, waste of a brain in your thick skull, would you?"

"That is a lie!" Giulio slammed a fist down upon the table and tuned to his brother, visiting his full wrath upon him. "She had settled herself firmly upon me but was put off by the abominable pair of you, so convinced, you both are, that I deserve NOTHING of my own! NOTHING! From our father!"

"Giulio, my son, please calm yourself..." Ercole began sadly as he reached a hand over to his son's balled fist upon the table. "Both of you, stop this..." he shot a warning glance at Alfonso, then.

"You salted me away in Brescello, and for what?" Giulio shot up from his seat and faced off with his brother across the table. "I have NEVER conspired with Ferrante against you and certainly not against our father!"

"I beg to differ... _brother_ ," Alfonso replied coolly as he continued to eat his meal.

"Oh, fuck you to hell, Alfonso! You have proof of no such thing! Your charges against me have always been trumped-up, even father knows that, for he had me released, did he not? And all the while there was Ippolito, going after my Angela like a common cur!"

"Did it ever occur to you that he loves her, Giulio?"

"He most certainly does not love her and you know it! He is a Cyprian!"

"That's enough, Giulio..." Ercole rose from his seat and managed to level his stern glare at both of his sons through his breaking heart. "Both of you—enough."

"Yes. Indeed. Enough, then." Alfonso said as he rose from his seat and threw his napkin angrily into his plate.

"Indeed." Giulio's indignance was further pronounced with his murderous eyes, set firmly upon Alfonso; the two men stared each other down for a long, electric moment.

"I said enough!" Ercole yelled his reprimand at them both and it cut like a bolt of thunder through the cloud of their hatred and fury; Giulio said nothing more, turned on his heel and left them; Alfonso made to do the same. "You! Sit!" Ercole barked at Alfonso, who stopped in his tracks and let out a groan of undisguised irritation. "I said SIT!"

Alfonso reclaimed his seat at the table before Ercole re-seated himself at the head of it.

"I'm sorry, father, about Giulio..."

"And that is exactly your problem, Alfonso—but I am not—I am sorry about none of you, not even Ferrante, as hard as that may be to understand; he disappoints me, greatly, but I love him still. And I appreciate your love and your protection, and have always; so Ferrante I understand, but I do not understand this constant war between you and Ippolito against Giulio; it must stop. I'm not asking you to love him, I see that is a thing that is not possible; but you must respect him as a child of mine—as your blood—that I love as much as I love you. This duchy will pass to you soon enough and be undisputed—give the man his peace, he is no threat to you."

"And will you speak to Ippolito, thusly, father?"

"I'd hoped that I would not need to speak to either of you, any more than I already have, and not Ippolito because he is in Rome attending to his own life; yet he manages still to extend the long arm of his animosity across the miles...so yes, I will speak to him, as well—I am tired of this constant bickering between the three of you—you must promise me that it will stop, Alfonso."

_While you are living, father_ , Alfonso groused silently, for he meant to keep even the merest possibility of his bastard brother as his usurper at zero. "I promise you, father," Alfonso managed through tight lips.

"I need to speak to you about something else, my son—I had a report from Gian Romei this afternoon—about you, the other night at his palazzo..."

Alfonso looked away from his father in shame.

"So it's true—what the devil were you about, boy, behaving in such a manner? I hear that your woman had to cart you away—and I thought that was done, by the way..."

"It is done...she took pity on me..."

Ercole was not oblivious to the tone in his son's voice. "You still love her—you went there seeking her out? Why? Are things not well between you and Lucrezia?"

"I went there..." _Seeking escape from the torment of my wife and Cesare Borgia..._

"Well?" Ercole waited. "Answer me, boy."

"Lucrezia's condition grows more delicate with each day—I am a man, am I not? I went there seeking a little recreation, that's all, not for Chiara...the wine was plentiful and such an excellent year—I simply forgot myself, that's all."

"Really?" Ercole harrumphed at him, sounding more than unconvinced.

"Yes, really."

"Is that why Lady Lucia has been reinstated, then? 'Recreation'?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," came his son's bold, truthful pronouncement.

Ercole thought back to Alfonso's experience with Anna, who had been very sickly during her pregnancy and suffered the worst fate because of it; he decided to cut his son a bit of slack. "Well, I was blessed with a hearty woman who bore all of her pregnancies with no problems and delivered to me six healthy children; I understand, my son; I hope you will be discreet about it, for Lucrezia's sake, hmm? Even though, I do wonder what that conversation was like between the two of, since Isabella made no pretense of her dislike for the girl, or the reason for it, upon Lucrezia's return," he chuckled at the memory.

"It was none of Isabella's business to begin with, to feel one way or the other about Lucia," Alfonso grumbled. "Not that it matters a damn—my wife is...dutiful enough...to say nothing and abide my wishes to have the lady serve her again."

"Serve _her?_ " Ercole let loose an unchecked and hearty guffaw. "Yes, my son, whatever you say. I shall go and see our girl, if you don't mind, hmm? I have missed her on my short trip away and I'd just like to look in on her to say hello and good night—that alright with you?"

"Certainly, father."

"So...there'll be no more incidents, then? Like the one at Romei's, eh?"

"No, father."

"Very good. I shall not keep your wife long."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the sound of the knock upon her door Lucrezia managed the most nonchalant look that she could muster as she prepared to host her husband's vile attentions. "Come in."

"Ah! Lucrezia! Who is this sickly woman I keep hearing about, hmm? You look absolutely radiant, my love!"

Lucrezia's poker face melted away and gave way to a genuine look of joy at the sight of her father-in-law. "My Lord! Welcome back home!" She held her arms out to him as he approached her bedside.

"Oh...come now, hmm? After all of this time? Surely you would call me 'father' now, yes?" he said after he released her from a strong hug.

"I would like that."

"Alright, that's settled. How are you and the one to be, here?"

"Getting along quite well, thank you...father."

"Very good. And Giovanni? I haven't seen him yet and of course he's gone to bed now..."

"He is fine, thank you for inquiring after him."

"Stop that...your son is a joy to me. Tell me, is he happy about the prospect of being a big brother?"

"Oh yes, he is! And I believe he's going to make an excellent one, judging by the reports I had of him during his time with my Rodrigo."

Ercole was amazed to even hear the name of Lucrezia's youngest issue forth from her lips, for the boy was a delicate subject that no one ever dared to speak about. Lucrezia noted the sudden and surprised look on his face.

"It's alright, I am able to speak about him, finally, at least here in your loving company."

"Speaking of brothers, I had the liveliest report from Giulio earlier this afternoon regarding the visit of your own beloved Cesare—congratulations, my dear, on His Excellency's victory over the confederates."

"Thank you, my Lord, although the politics of it all—"

" _Father_ , dear one...and let us leave the politics of it all out of it for the moment, hmm? I am happy that he had the opportunity to visit with you, for you are ever close to the hearts of your family, I know."

"Well then, Cesare has surely given His Holiness the report that I am in very loving hands, for Giulio represented you and this house well in your absence, as he does always." Her loving and sincere praise caused Ercole's wider smile at her. "And Alfonso, too, of course..." she added hastily.

"I did miss you at dinner, my dear, yours is such a calming influence upon the brothers."

"Oh no—did they have words?"

"Most assuredly. I am so happy that you and Giulio have grown close, Lucrezia, it truly warms my heart. If only his brothers had even a modicum of affection toward him—ah! How my heart would soar to the heavens..." Ercole's sigh was wistful and full of regret that his wish was not so.

Lucrezia gave a loving pat to her father-in-law's hand.

"I fear for Giulio upon my death..."

"My Lord! Do not even speak of such a thing!"

"But I am an old man, my dear, and my days are numbered, I can be honest about my mortality; and I have yet to achieve so many of my desires: I'd like to live to see all of these wars come to an end see peaceful times reign over Italy—I'd like to see peaceful times reign in this house..." he gave a wry chuckle. "I do not understand my sons, Lucrezia; their hatred for one another is disheartening—and exhausting."

Lucrezia gave Ercole a knowing look before she uttered her delicate reply. "I think that grown children understand well the game of favorites, my Lord...but it still hurts. My brother Juan was the apple of my father's eye...it was simply a fact. But we survived it because we knew he loved all of us and simply recognized that each of us had different needs, which we couldn't appreciate as little children."

Lucrezia did not add that the revelation had come late in their lives or that Juan had not been strong enough to survive his own failings—and that death had come at the hands of his own brother.

"What a wise woman you are, my love, for you are so right! I never cared that Giulio was a bastard—he was simply mine; my own flesh and blood; the world wanted me to deny him, but it was not a thing that was possible for me to do; even my Eleanor did not begrudge me him."

"She sounds like she was a most amazing and loving woman, my Lord."

"Oh, she was; she had her detractors, you know, but what real person doesn't hmm?" Ercole gave a wink at Lucrezia.

"Indeed, my Lord."

"Even my boys didn't understand her loving hand with Giulio."

"It usually takes having children for our own children to truly understand us, it seems."

"Well then, I pray that this child of yours will help my Alfonso to understand me better, my love. Thank you for that." He gave her a sweet kiss upon her cheek. "I have kept you up long enough, now, and your husband away from your side. Are you confined to the bed or are you able to walk about?"

"I am to be very careful with myself, but my exam today was very positive: I may be up and about but am to retire upon the first evidence of any exhaustion."

"May I look forward to a short walk in the garden tomorrow then, with you and Giovanni? A little picnic, maybe?"

"Nothing would please me more, father."

"Ah, that's what I like to hear. I shall come calling for you at noon, then. Until then, my love, good night and rest well," Ercole gave her hug and then a kiss to Lucrezia's hand before he left her; in the salon he found Alfonso stoking the hearth.

"Father."

Ercole closed the bedroom door firmly behind himself and then approached his son. "You be careful with her—do what you like with Lucia, but spare your wife any stress that could jeopardize her health or that of your child, do you understand me, Alfonso?" Ercole leveled the quiet warning at his son.

_She continues to pull the wool over your eyes, father. So be it._ "Of course father."

"Yes, well, we have things to discuss in the morning—daybreak, hmm? Sharp."

"Of course, father."

"Good night, son."

"Good night, father."

Alfonso saw his father to the salon door and then watched him disappear down the hall, around the corner and out of sight.

"Are you ready for me now?" came a seductive voice from around a closer corner as the dark-haired woman it belonged to came into sight, covered by a lovely dark green cloak.

"That I am"

"I have missed you Alfonso, and just to be clear...I forgive you..."

"Oh? For what?"

"For your cold, callous dismissal of me before."

"Well, that's very nice of you, thank you..." Alfonso took her hand and drew her close to him. "Let's get out of this hallway and behind that door, yes?" He gave her a kiss.

"Oh...yes..." she moaned at him after their lips parted.

"What is this?" Alfonso traced the shimmering emerald beads upon the lapel of her cloak.

"My riding cloak, to look as if I am either stealing out or slipping back into the castle, should I be caught passing by this door at such a late hour as this."

"If anyone saw you passing by this door at such a late hour you must surely know you'd be fooling no one, Lucia..."

"Maybe not, but I enjoy the ruse, anyway. Or...maybe you'd prefer me to come boldly...naked..." Lucia slipped the cloak off of herself slightly to reveal her smooth, bare shoulder.

"I do appreciate your sense of adventure, dear girl," he smiled wickedly at her; she giggled at him as he pulled her along and into the salon.

"Now, you remember what I told you? About my wife?"

"You shall not have to chastise me again, Alfonso, for not following your orders—I have been instructed by your wife to keep you happy, which shall not conflict with the duties that you require of me."

"Well, I am most happy to hear that your previous conundrum regarding that endeavor has been resolved and I shall hold you to it..." he kissed her again, his passion further ignited by the privacy afforded them at that moment. "You do have the most exquisite lips, Lucia, but come here, now, by the fire..."

"So...Lucrezia has moved back to her old rooms, then?" Lucia asked as Alfonso took a waiting blanket from upon the divan and spread it out on the floor.

"Hmm? Get out of that cloak, now, I wish to see your angelic body laid out before me like the feast that it is..."

Lucia thrust her cloak off and to the floor then laid out on the blanket before the fire. "You are exceptionally amorous tonight, Alfonso..."

"And you are my inspiration."

"So...Lucrezia—"

"Shh—a moment..." Alfonso left her and went to the closed door of his suite. "Wife?" he called through the door; seconds later it opened to reveal Lucrezia, her hair, loose and flowing, and dressed in a simple purple linen kirtle; she looked ethereal and regal standing there, the cathedral sleeves highlighting dramatically her calm demeanor as she stood with her beautiful alabaster hands clasped demurely before her.

"What is this?" Lucia gasped in horror as she grabbed her cloak to cover herself.

"Alfonso? You did not tell her?" Lucrezia's question was a reprimand.

"What is this?" Lucia repeated, aghast and outdone.

"Remember your duty to us both, Lucia," Alfonso barked at the mortified woman.

"I...my Lady...I..."

Lucrezia strolled past her husband and over to the divan to seat herself. "He means for you to pleasure him, Lucia, and for me to watch," Lucrezia said with no emotion in her voice at all.

"My Lady, I..."

"Stop your babbling, Lucia—do as I do and forget that she is even here," Alfonso cut a cold glare at his wife as he walked away from the door and began to undress himself.

"My Lord, please..."

"What is this 'My Lord' nonsense?" Alfonso had dispensed his jerkin, "I am your Alfonso..." he said as he pulled his shirt over his head, then joined Lucia on the blanket, "...forget her..." he yanked the cloak away from her to reveal her full nakedness again.

"I cannot do this!" Lucia protested through his hungry kisses to her neck.

Alfonso stopped abruptly, looking as if he would raise a hand to her. "You _will_ do this!" he yelled at her.

"Alfonso, stop this—she is a fine lady who comes from a good family—do not abase her any further."

Alfonso turned his angry eyes upon his wife. "I shall do as I like!"

"You're no stranger to whores—if you must prove this point to me then why not a willing and expert professional?"

"There is no professional more expert than _you_ , Lucrezia _Borgia!_ " he spat her name at her.

"Then bring one that may rival my talents and best me, my Lord," Lucrezia replied coolly.

"I have permission to send for your mother, then?"

With each barb between them Lucia shrank further into herself from pure embarrassment, at her predicament and from being privy to their evident hatred of each other; in tears and whimpering uncontrollably she made to get up from the floor and abscond.

"Oh no you don't..." Alfonso subdued her easily and pinned her to the floor.

"Let her go, Alfonso."

"Shut your mouth, Lucrezia!"

"Alright, then, do as you will—I'm leaving—"

"Make your move off of that divan and I promise that you will regret it," he hissed at her over his shoulder, busy at that moment with the task of freeing himself from his breeches.

Lucrezia looked at his poor captive on the floor and wished that the girl could read her thoughts.

_Look away, Lucia, beyond Alfonso...beyond me...beyond yourself...I know well how you feel at this moment, believe me...just let him do as he will so that you may get it over with..._

But Lucia could not read Lucrezia's thoughts or feel her compassion; all she could feel as Alfonso finally took possession of her was her desire to die.


	76. Between Scylla and Charybdis

Alfonso had tersely commanded Lucrezia to remain in the salon as he took his leave to the suite with Lucia, but only after he was satisfied that his wife had seen enough; even though Lucia's performance had been more than lackluster it had not affected his; he lamented only that his wife was pregnant and that he'd not been able to command her participation with them. Then again, that was something to look forward to in the future, and he vowed to himself that it was a thing he would most assuredly bring to fruition as soon as it was possible to do so.

He'd forbidden Lucia to leave him and slept soundly beside her for the short hours of sleep he had given himself soundly over to; he was up early later that morning, and gone, to have his bath and see to other issues before he met with his father. He passed his wife on the way out without a word or even a glance her way, even though she was quite awake and still sitting up on the divan, seemingly as immobile as a stone statue.

When the door closed behind him at last she rose from her seat and gathered Lucia's cloak from the floor, then proceeded to the suite, where she found Lucia softly weeping.

"Lucia..." Lucrezia called her name softly before she approached the bed.

"Oh...my Lady, I am so ashamed..."

"Lucia, there are not enough proper words that can ever express my heartbreak for you..." she handed the woman her cloak. "Do you require any...special attention?" she asked her delicately.

"He is a brute! A monster! I don't know him, at all! As wrong as it was for me to tryst with him in your absence, my Lady, he was not the man that I had come to know...not the man that he was last night. But it is my just reward for being a slattern; a fornicator; for having relations with another woman's husband! For going along with your foul plans, the pair of you!"

"I deserve that, Lucia, unquestionably, but please do not speak such words about yourself; for the fault is surely mine—I have turned him into the brute, and your curses upon us both are justified."

Lucia looked at the woman sitting beside her upon the bed, really looked at her, for the first time since they had met and was unable to check the words that came next out of her mouth. "Who are you? What type of woman are you that could admit such a thing yet have so much compassion for me in your voice? I am green in so many ways, but I know the general nature of alliances and that they are very commonly devoid of any love between the marriage partners; but through all of this horror I can see that he loves you, my Lady; truly and deeply loves you; but is determined to hurt you in the most abominable fashion, and anyone else that might possibly aid him in that endeavor. What on God's Earth has transpired to set all of these ruinous wheels into motion?"

Lucrezia looked down at her lap sadly. "I had hoped to bond with you, Lucia, but not in a manner such as this," she looked up at her then. "I hurt him first, you see. And now he lashes out—lashes back; it is as simple as that; and now you are the unfortunate victim caught up in the war between us. It was not my intent for such a thing to happen to you; I thought that he would be content to take his pleasure in you and leave me alone about it, but I see that will never be enough to appease him. I would advise you to leave this place and deliver yourself from my hell, for I do not wish to share that with you."

"He would kill me if I try to leave, I am sure of it, my Lady."

"You are a free woman, Lucia, and he is only a man."

"He is an Noble, my Lady; an _angry_ Noble; though I do not know everything about the affairs between you I know enough; and the Tiber is full of many 'free women'...lying cold and bloated in their watery grave for lesser infractions against even more common men."

"I would ensure your safety..."

"Please forgive me for saying so, but you cannot even ensure your own safety, my Lady."

"Then I will have to appeal to him—or utilize other means at my disposal." Lucrezia was thinking of Cardinal Bembo then.

"To do what?"

"Treat you with a kinder hand, at the least, Lucia."

"Save yourself the trouble—I never want to be touched by his hand again, kinder or otherwise," the woman concluded with a disgusted harrumph.

"But if you are to stay here, Lucia, you must be touched by him, again and again; either that or let me help you make your escape away from here."

"To escape him I would have to escape Ferrara, as well; my whole life is here, my Lady, I do not wish to leave Ferrara."

"Well, then it seems that we are both navigating the dangerous waters between Scylla and Charybdis, Lucia, and we must exercise some option, while there are any still existing."

"Well, to remain her means that I shall become his proper whore—that is not the life that I had envisioned for myself, my Lady."

"Please call me 'Lucrezia', Lucia; I feel less and less like a Lady every time your innocent lips utter the word."

"And if I do so would you tell me why Alfonso loves and hates you in such intense and equal measure?"

"I'm afraid that I cannot do that except to say that his hatred is well-founded—as was once, his love for me."

Lucia was left speechless at Lucrezia's honest, but vague, explanation.

"You've a choice to make, Lucia; whatever it is that you decide to do, please know that it will be my duty to help you realize an outcome that is most beneficial to you. It is my vow to you."

"I must think on this, my La—Lucrezia."

"I understand. Do you need assistance? I shall call to have a bath drawn for you..."

"No, please—I can take care of myself from here. I'm sorry about this..." Lucia motioned to the bed. "You will want clean sheets...you must get back in bed and have your rest..."

"I shall call a maid, do not trouble yourself about that."

Lucia gave Lucrezia a silent nod then and rose from the bed to put on her cloak. "I feel like a complete fool in this..." she said as she looked down at her ornate cloak.

"Here..." Lucrezia went to her wardrobe and retrieved a simple chemise then handed it to the embarrassed woman. "Put this on—you came to retrieve me for my bath, yes? If anyone sees you about this morning..."

"Thank you, Lucrezia."

"Of course."

"We shall talk again—later."

"Yes."

"Good morning, then."

Lucrezia gave nod at Lucia before she made her hasty retreat away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that day, as Lucrezia picnicked with Ercole and Giovanni, Alfonso went to see Lucia in her apartments.

"Go away from me, Alfonso!" she called through the door in response to his knock upon it.

"Let me in, Lucia...let me explain..."

"Go away, my Lord!"

"Do not cause this scene, Lucia—open the door or I shall use my key."

Lucia went to the door and yanked it open but was so startled at the sight of him that she almost forgot that she was angry; he rushed past her into the room.

"Uh...explain? Rape does not need explaining."

"I did not rape you and you know it..."

"You took me by force, Alfonso; I was not prepared for such a thing, nor did I want it, with your wife sitting there watching us."

"Was it so bad? Admit that you found it even a touch intriguing..."

"I did not." Unable to ignore it any longer she finally addressed his appearance. "What have you done to your face, Alfonso?"

"Surely you are familiar with the concept of shaving, Lucia," he smiled at her.

"You do not have permission to smile at me, Alfonso d'Este." _Especially looking as handsome as you do now...who knew?_

"You like it, then?"

"I was not aware that you cared anything about what I like or do not like, after last night," she managed to find her ire at him again, for his face was a surprise—a happy surprise. She had not seen it bare since he was a young boy, for puberty had hit him with force at fourteen years old; by sixteen his beard had already been well-grown and imposing, assisting him in his endeavor to be taken seriously as a young Noble destined to be the future Duke of Ferrara.

"Yes, father was quite surprised, as well."

"And who is this surprise truly intended for, or do I even need to ask it?"

"It is simply time for a change, Lucia, as in many aspects of my life."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. About last night—"

Lucia walked up to him then, her eyes squinted at him in reprimand. "Yes. About last night. Let me be the first to anoint this near-virgin skin with its just reward." Lucia hauled off and gave his cheek a hard, vicious slap and reveled in the quick, scarlet appearance of her hand print upon it; Alfonso took her offending hand into one of his own and yanked her into his embrace.

"Where was all of this fire last night, Lucia?" he whispered seductively at her as his mouth threatened to overtake her own.

"You may be accustomed to such exploits in the brothels, my Lord, but I am no whore."

"You love me, Lucia."

"I loathe you, Alfonso. Last night was an abomination."

"My _wife_ , is an abomination. But not this..." he leveled his sensuous kiss upon her.

"Oh..." Lucia swooned when at last he released her, "you are so many men that I no longer know, Alfonso..."

"You know me, Lucia, very well..." he came in for another kiss.

"No! Kisses are no proper apology for your brutish behavior last night. You said that you would explain yourself. Begin." She pushed him away from her and crossed defiant arms at him.

"Alright." He began to pace a slow circle upon the floor. "You've heard the rumors about Lucrezia Borgia, I'm sure..."

"They're true? And you married her anyway, is that it?"

Alfonso was amazed to find that he was reluctant to betray Lucrezia and give up her darkest secrets—to anyone. Was it his pride? Or his still genuine concern for her? For, throughout and in spite of everything that had transpired between them, he'd found it impossible to rid himself of it.

"She is no saint; yet she has greatly be-deviled me these past years."

"And so you are both the same, in that regard—unwilling to divulge the full truth, either of you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you left me with her, did you not, this morning? You don't think that we had a conversation? Or did your arrogance lead you to believe that we spent the morning physically fighting each other for your affections? I am certain that's all that your ego allowed."

"I thought nothing of the sort; she had no words for me when I left this morning; I was sure that she would neither have words for you."

"Really? Well, we did; we did have words, Alfonso; she blamed herself for your egregious behavior against me and offered to help me get away from from you. For good and with my life."

"Is that right?"

"I asked her the same as I asked you: what is the truth behind your hatred for each other?"

"And she said?"

"That yours for her was well-founded—as much as your love for her had once been."

"Yes, well...she tends to think much of herself."

"I'm not convinced that you don't love her still—or that she doesn't love you."

"Well, one rumor that I may validate for you?"

"Yes?"

"She is an expert liar; she belongs on the stage, for there is no better actress in the world."

"A liar? An actress? She said that she hurt you first. Is that a lie?"

" _That_...is not a lie."

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"Where does all of this leave me, Alfonso? Why should I not take her up on her offer of escape and go on with my life?"

"Do you feel that you need to escape me, Lucia?"

"I do value my life, even if you do not; you would have me stay here to abase and abuse further?"

"You fear me, is that it? You think that I would harm you?"

"You _have_ harmed me, Alfonso...should I fear for my life, as well?"

"She has put that thought into your head..."

"Hers is not the only murderous Noble family in the land, Alfonso."

"You have far more to fear from her than you have to fear from me, Lucia; you know me; you love me."

"And you? How do you feel about me? I know how you really felt about Chiara, and most-likely still do; I am certain that you love your wife, as well, no matter what you both say, for what you both _do not_ say speaks louder than all of your other words combined."

"I am fond of you, Lucia."

"Fond of me?" she scoffed at him. "Fond of me. Yes, I should embrace all that hell would allow because you are _fond_ of me, Alfonso?"

Alfonso stopped his pacing upon the floor and approached the apprehensive woman before him. "In my world, on this day, Lucia, that is everything to me; you are a Lady; a true Lady, Lucia Fantuzzi; one that I could be proud to have at my side; to help rule this duchy with me."

"What madness is this that you speak, Alfonso? You are married to the House of Borgia—"

"And the House of Borgia may fall soon, one day; _will_ fall, as soon as Pope Alexander Sixtus topples dead to the ground from upon the Papal Throne."

"What are you saying, Alfonso? You would murder your wife?"

"I am speaking of no such thing. But should the day ever come...that I might become free of my wife, then I would be free to marry you."

"Not murder? And surely not divorce, for it is forbidden—so by what means could you ever be free to marry me?"

"It is not an impossibility," he said cryptically.

"So...I'm to live a life as unfulfilled as that of a horse strapped to a cart, chasing after the proverbial carrot, ever and specifically placed out of my reach, _and_ as your carnal surrogate in the bargain?

"Then I have a final proposal for you: oblige me one last time, Lucia; make love with me—really make love with me, with your full and truest passion, for my wife to witness and choke on—and then go on your way to your freedom; or stay here with me and wait—bide your time and continue to love me, as I know that you do, and reap the reward of life as Noblewoman in this land that you love and has always been your home."

"That is a huge promise to keep, Alfonso."

"I always honor my promises—if you know nothing else about me you surely know that."

"Scylla and Charybdis," Lucia said under her breath,

"What?"

Lucia only stared at him blankly as Alfonso walked up behind her and embraced her.

"What?" he asked softly as he lifted up her arms so that he could undress her; Lucia happily aided him, eager to be free of Lucrezia's chemise; still she could utter no words; Alfonso pulled her hair back and kissed her neck tenderly, then nudged her naked body with his own to take steps toward her bedroom.

"Alfonso..." Her protest was a weak one and soon they were at the bed where he laid her gently down upon her back.

"You would not allow me this last night—I will not be denied now..." he said as he trailed his kisses between her breasts and the down her torso, past the soft down between her legs to her other lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah! My son! Good news!" his father's voice boomed out as Alfonso and Lucrezia entered the dining hall that evening for the proper banquet celebrating Ercole's return home.

"Good evening, father."

"And to you! And to you, my Lady—I am honored and blessed to take two meals with you on this day! And so apropos, for I am pleased to announce to you all..." Ercole brought the rest of the court to attention with the tap of his knife against his goblet before he stood up. "Thank you, I am pleased to announce to you all that I received a communication and documents today, from His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sixtus, bequeathing the duchy of Ferrara its release from our annual tribute to the Church—as well as a fifty-thousand ducat reimbursement—"

Applause broke out int the hall.

"Yes, yes, there's more, let me finish," Ercole beamed his smile at everyone on the room, "we are in official receipt of ownership of the harbor of Cesenatico, and the cities, as promised, of Pieve and Cento!"

More applause and hearty cheers peppered the room then. "Please join me, one and all, and raise your glass our beloved Lady, Lucrezia d'Este!"

Across the table from Lucrezia Alfonso was tight-lipped and silent as he rose to join the toast; Lucrezia, still reeling from the sight of his clean-shaven face, was as surprised as everyone else, for neither her father nor Cesare had sent any prior word to her about it; she knew that Cesare had been instrumental, after his last visit, in lighting the sure fire under her father's feet to bring it to fruition and sent a silent prayer of thanks to God as the court applauded its good—and much awaited—fortune. Two seats down from Lucrezia stood Lucia, whom Alfonso dared to steal a glance at, only to find a sure scowl upon her face and leveled directly and unabashedly at him.

Feeling more than sure that Alfonso's promise to her could never be realized, Lucia honored his wish to share a true night of passion with him in Lucrezia's presence in order to gain her freedom. She had not spoken to Lucrezia again since that awkward moment after Alfonso's first attempt. As the social season became more active with the advent of warmer weather, and even though they found themselves inevitably and much thrown together at court, the two women did well to successfully avoid each other.

Lucrezia had not been sure what to make of Lucia by that point or what the woman's plans might remotely be, but she did not come to her for assistance nor had her husband appointed with her to hold further private audience with them again; it was a relief to her in so many ways, for she had prepared herself to align with Cardinal Bembo, if necessary, but dreaded the prospect of being driven to such action. Instead, she'd found herself free to truly concentrate on her health and that of her unborn child and was happy to divide the rest of her time between many happy moments with Giovanni, Giulio and Ercole; she had even managed, at Ercole's considerate request, to mediate a few land disputes, which she was most excellent at, further garnering for herself a happy duty to look forward to after the birth of the baby, for Ercole wanted a permanent seat for her at Town Hall.

In the meantime, her few interactions with Alfonso were as acerbic and hostile as that morning after with Lucia. They were so quiet and stealthy with their animosities that no one was ever the wiser—except Lucia and Cardinal Bembo, who shared no common intelligence with each other, but both knew all too well the true nature of the d'Este's marriage.

And so it was, on a lovely June evening, after yet another festive banquet and dance, that Lucrezia was caught unaware by her husband and his lady.

It was the rare occasion that Cardinal Bembo was away—in Mantua, as a matter of fact, assisting the Marquessa with a concert that was in jeopardy because of the absence of her ever-troubled Maestro, Tromboncino—that Alfonso approached her after she had retired early from the festivities.

"What is it , Alfonso? I'm tired..."

"I require you to take your seat over there, wife," Alfonso said as he pointed to a wing chair in the corner of the bedroom.

"What? Do you see this belly, Alfonso? My swollen feet? I am _tired_..." she reiterated.

"And all you required to do is sit and watch, and then you may go back to bed; now hurry—a real woman awaits and is yearning to join me; I have just been barely able to keep my passions for her in check this long day."

There it was—a real and evident hurt, registered upon her angelic face, usually impenetrable to his callous disregard of her; it was his first victory in a long while and he smirked a satisfied smile at her.

Lucrezia didn't even understand herself why she was suddenly so affected; she had not been feeling well for a few days and those nights that she had retired early to be were due to earnest exhaustion. Alfonso knew well that, at that point, her health really was an issue and his uncaring attitude affected her more than she was able to hide. She got up with difficulty and no assistance from her husband to take her seat and the next shock was Lucia, who leveled a cold smile at Lucrezia as she entered the room that chilled the very blood in her veins.

"Lucia?"

"Please just take your seat, Lucrezia—the sooner the better, for it is going to be a long and pleasant night—for Alfonso and me, anyway."

Lucrezia sat down heavily in the chair and just stared into her lap.

"Eyes here, Lucrezia!" came Alfonso's stern order at her from the bed, "So that you may see what ordained and real love truly looks like."

Alfonso turned away from her; he and Lucia both easily forgot her then, and engaged in every possible act of love until the wee hours of the morning, both of them cruel enough to find her soft whimpers as potent as any aphrodisiac.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Lucrezia endured her husband's private cruelties her brother, by the beginning of summer 1503, had seized more towns, easily and without striking a single blow: specifically Citta di Castello, formerly held by his deceased enemy, Vitellozzo Vitelli; and Perugia, long since vacated by Gian Paolo Baglioni. There remained Siena, and its cowardly ruler, Pandolfo Petrucci, the last remaining traitor and member of the confederates; but Siena was under the protection of the French and was also not one of the States of the Church; as Cesare had no rights there he concentrated, instead, on insisting that Petrucci quit Siena and retire to Lucca, which Petrucci was more than happy to do, in light of his circumstances.

King Louis XII, by that time, had suffered reverses in the Kingdom of Naples and was much too taken up with his own concerns to be involved with Cesare's exploits; Cesare had then seized next, in rapid succession Vicovaro, Cera, Palombera, Lanzano and Cervetti. Having brought the pontifical States into subjection from the frontiers of Naples to those of Venice, he returned to Rome to help his father destroy what was left of the Orsini and begin the process of turning his duchy into the kingdom his father desired for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before the end of June Lucrezia received a letter, bursting with excitement and from her mother, reporting the latest news about her brother and her happiness at his return to Rome. When she was done reading it all that Lucrezia's heart desired was to commission a carriage and make haste away to her family, but she knew that her pregnancy, this time, would not allow her to make such a trip. At least she had the visit of her mother to look forward to upon the birth of her child.

Lucia had indeed left Castello Estense, some three days after what turned out to be her last night with Alfonso. Though he never uprooted her again from her bed Alfonso did take up the loud habit of entertaining his whores in the salon where his insensitive and very vocal pleasures reminded her of the night she had felt her most murderous desire against her brother Juan—and had effected a remedy for her relief.

_And this is why I suffer now—I am no child of God; this is my punishment_...she chastised herself one night as Alfonso entertained two whores. How he he'd managed to keep the household ignorant of his exploits was a mystery to her. _No, it is no mystery; this is his house; and Ercole must know, too, even if he does reside in another wing of the castle. I am pregnant and unable to service my husband; he is allowed, you fool._

On those nights, which were at least four times during a typical week, Lucrezia simply endured, but always on a sea of tears that stained her pillow before she escaped into sleep.

One morning after such a night she managed a little stroll with Giovanni and Princess to take air in the garden; seated upon a bench watching her son play fetch with the excited dog, Cardinal Bembo found his way to her and sat his respectful distance beside her.

"My Lady, good morning to you."

"Cardinal, where is your smile? It is a cruelty for you to withhold it from me."

"Where is your smile, Lucrezia? I have not seen a true one for weeks, now."

"Not here, Pietro, not in front of my child—ask me another such question and you will surely have my tears..."

"Then come to confession, Lucrezia, where we may speak in private and I may console you—"

"Do I look as if I need to be consoled, Pietro? Is it as bad as all of that?"

"You tell me, Lucrezia; and it is bad enough; I don't know how the Duke smiles in your face yet allows his son to disrespect you in such a manner."

Lucrezia dared to look at Pietro then and could see that he was as livid as his voice implied.

"Pietro, please...calm yourself; I am inclined to think that Ercole knows and is...quite alright with it..." she said quietly.

"How can he not know? The whole court knows!"

"Giulio doesn't seem to be aware, either, Pietro, not about the worst of it—I know that he would be most vocal about it if he did."

"How do you get any rest at all? Stupid question..." Pietro berated himself, "it is obvious that you do not. At least move back to your old apartments, Lucrezia, or is he trying to kill you? And the child in your womb?"

"I made that request months ago, Pietro, and he forbade me to do any such thing."

"Where is my Lucrezia? My bold, strong Lucrezia? What has he done to you?"

"I am here, Pietro; tired; huge; slow; disheartened—and it all my own fault! Please go away before Giovanni returns to find my tears awaiting him instead of my smile? Please?" she begged him desperately.

"Come to confession, Lucrezia—come talk to me—your burdens are crushing you—I will not judge you, that is not my purpose on this earth—if Ercole chooses to turn a blind eye then I will gladly take up your cause and put Alfonso to rights," he hissed his angry oath to her.

"There's so much that you don't know, Pietro..."

"I know this: you should most assuredly not be blaming yourself, whatever the trouble is; I know that you are a fallible human, as are we all—but Alfonso is a pig. I have kept my careful distance from you to spare you any trouble with him but I am still your friend, Lucrezia, and a Prince of the Church; after you put your son down for his nap today, please come to me; reveal only that which you wish to reveal; but come lay your burden upon me, that's what I am here for."

"Thank you, Pietro, I will...I promise."

The Cardinal gave her a final nod of his reassurance and then left her.


	77. The Only Blessing

"Peace be with you, my child."

"And also with you." Lucrezia blessed herself with the sign of the cross. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; it has been more months than I can remember since my last confession, and my sins are legion."

"Unburden yourself to the Lord, my child, for the Lord hears your prayers, and knows your heart," Pietro said in a near whisper as he leaned closer in to the lattice between them; Lucrezia did the same before she spoke again.

"Then the Lord knows that I understand that I am reaping the just reward for my sins; the Lord knows that my heart is black; that I am filled with hate and fear and murderous thoughts; that I long for deliverance from my own inability to do what is right and Christian..." Lucrezia began to sob lightly.

Her torment immediately became his own and Pietro struggled to keep his voice low and his vehemence in check with his next words. "What must be done, Lucrezia? Tell me, and I will do it!"

"I need to know, Pietro, that should I ever call on you to deliver a verbal message to Lady Dorotea Caracciuola in Venice that you will deliver it and make haste at my request..."

Pietro had family in Venice who could provide certain cover for any trip he should ever make there, but even had that not been the case it was a task that nothing would dare to keep him from carrying out. "Done—all you need do is tell me the word..."

Lucrezia told him the word through her softest whisper after Pietro pressed his ear to the lattice.

"That's it? That is all?"

"No; with the word you must give her instruction to send the message urgently to His Excellency, Cesare Borgia."

"Why can I not get the word directly to him myself, Lucrezia?"

"Because he will trust it from none other than her. And you are to wait for confirmation, so that when you return to Ferrara you will be able to assure me of its delivery, do you understand?"

"I do and I will."

"Thank you, Pietro."

"I had the opportunity to speak with the Duke before I came here, Lucrezia; there is a reason he knows not of your husband's recent and worst transgressions against you..."

"Yes?"

"He and Giulio have been much taken up with each other, attending concerts and the like; or the Duke has been away at the palazzos of his advisors, days at a time...having been confined to your bed as you have been, you've not been privy to the goings-on about court—other than those of Alfonso. The night that your husband and your Lady gave that most salacious concert of their own, not only were the Duke and Giulio away, but so was I, summoned to Mantua and unable to inform you before I was called away; Alfonso planned all of those nights with his women very carefully..."

"And, of course, those here at court—"

"Were properly scandalized—the women, at least—"

"But never the men," she finished for him bitterly.

"Correct; and none of them willing, or at liberty, to say a word against him."

"Of course."

"What is your plan, Lucrezia? You know that you may tell it to me..."

"My plan, Pietro? My plan is to survive this pregnancy, which feels interminable; deliver this heir to the duchy and then go on with my life, for Ercole has the desire to see me succeed here—he wants a permanent seat for me on the town council, Pietro, and I want it, as well; it is easy to love the people of Ferrara and I endeavor always to be held in their high esteem and their favor..."

"You are held in their high esteem and favor already, Lucrezia—Alfonso be damned! You are...you are much loved here! The people love you! I...I love you, Lucrezia," Pietro said passionately, wishing that he could tear through the lattice and prove his words to her.

Lucrezia found herself overwhelmed by his declaration and the force behind his emotions and was stunned into silence.

"Surely my words do not surprise you, Lucrezia."

"They do not, Pietro, but they frighten me, for those words mean danger for us both."

"Have I not been a good boy, Lucrezia?"

The old playfulness was back in his voice, which Lucrezia had not heard in what felt like ages; through the lattice she could see the hint of the sweet smile on his face and it brought a smile to her own, as well as one in her heart. "You have been an honorable man, all of these months and years, Pietro; and a very good and treasured friend."

Pietro gave a heavy sigh of resignation. "Yes, Lucrezia...always that."

They were both silent for a moment.

"So...the Duke endeavors to employ you—no surprise there, you are a natural at negotiation."

"Thanks to my beloved Don di Tosoni, may God rest his soul," Lucrezia thought back to her dear mentor and signed the cross again.

"Yes, thanks to the Don and your own exceptional talents; the people here know how fair you are; and the stories they hear regarding your frequent interventions between the murderous d'Este brothers are almost legendary, already—you are firmly and lovingly embraced by the people of Ferrara, if not by your husband, Lucrezia..."

"So you will deliver my message should I have need for you to do so, then?"

"You may depend upon me, my Lady; I have no other business away from court, save for the occasional needs of the Marquessa; but should she happen to summon me again I shall simply be ill, yes?"

"Thank you, Pietro. Do you know if the Duke is to be away from Estense tonight?"

"No, but I can find out and bring you word as soon as I do."

"Thank you, again, Pietro."

"Lucrezia?"

"Yes?"

"Will you never relieve yourself of your burdens and confide in me?"

"I have confided in you, Pietro, and your friendship and protection is ever the balm that helps to heal my wounded soul; the rest I leave in God's hands, after I have offered Him up my prayers; and please know that I thank Him daily for you."

"Do you know, my Lady, that every day you find some new way to fan my ardor?"

"Pietro..."

"I mean that as a great compliment, Lucrezia—know that I am ever honored to be in your service."

"Thank you, Pietro, the honor is mine alone."

"There is nothing else that you would have me do?"

"At this moment, Pietro, know that you have done everything for me that is possible for you to do."

"Then back to your rest, my Lady. _In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti_..."

Lucrezia left the confessional with the intent to speak to Ercole directly about Alfonso's behavior and seek relief by appealing to him on behalf of their baby; she hoped that Bembo's report to her later would bear out that Ercole would be present for her to do so that evening. However, when she took to her bed she was plagued by several strange feelings: one, behind her breastbone, which she thought not very much of, for it was a common condition that stemmed from eating tomatoes, and roasted tomatoes had been included in her lunch that day; a headache, which had actually been nagging at her for days; and the ever-present discomfort of her swollen feet. As she settled herself upon her bed she heard her lady-in-waiting admit someone to salon after a knock upon the door.

"Bembo..."

"My Lady—I have had an audience with the Duke—" he informed her with a careful smile.

"Yes, then...Andrea, my love?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Would you please go and fetch my Giovanni for me? I promised him a story after his playtime in the garden."

"Certainly, my Lady! I shall be right back..." The lovely young woman smiled her pleasure back at Lucrezia and dashed away.

As soon as the woman was gone Pietro spoke up. "He is to be here, Lucrezia, and has no appointments away from Estense for the next week—what is your plan?"

"I shall speak to him directly, Pietro, and nip this foul behavior of Alfonso's in the bud, once and for all; I need my peace during this last month of my...oh!" Lucrezia's hand went to a spot just under her breast through her gown and pressed upon it.

"What is it, Lucrezia?" Bembo asked her in great alarm.

"Nothing, I'm sure; nothing more than the roasted tomatoes I had at lunch, not digested well and back to be-devil me, that's all; please pardon me..."

"You do not look well, Lucrezia," he said then as he noted fine beads of sweat above her brow; he took his seat beside her and the back of his hand went immediately to her forehead. "You have a fever..."

"I am a little warm, it is a hot July day, after all," she tried to explain away his mounting concern.

"No—I must get the medic..." he rose to leave her.

"No, Pietro, please—it is nothing, I'm sure—stop this, please, for you are frightening me..."

"Then let the medic come and examine you, so that neither us should remain frightened, my Lady," he told her sternly. Just then Andrea returned with Giovanni and his nursemaid. "Take the boy away," he ordered the nursemaid, who looked immediately to Lucrezia in confusion and for confirmation; all that Lucrezia could do at that moment was to nod at her.

"What is wrong with my Lady?" the girl asked him quietly, her brow creased with lines of worry.

"Just take Giovanni away, please, dear girl," he begged her. "Lady Andrea, I must fetch Don Massa—go to the basin there and prepare a cold compress—put it to Lucrezia's forehead, she is sick with fever..."

"Right away, Cardinal!" the woman responded as she rushed to the task.

Bembo returned just under five minutes later with the medic, Don Jacopo Massa, and the old midwife, Niccola da Capri.

"Her water has broken!" Andrea reported frantically when they all burst into the bedroom suite.

"There, there, child—calm yourself and allow my hand with her now, yes?" The old woman's voice was calm and reassuring as she nudged the younger one gently away from Lucrezia's bedside. "Prepare a fresh basin of water, please?"

"Yes, ma'am, right away!"

"My Lady," Niccola softly addressed her charge, who was moaning her distress and writhing weakly upon the bed, "you and your child are in good hands..."

While the midwife tried to calm her the medic pulled Lucrezia's gown up with gentle urgency. "That's it, let's have a look..." he noted the sheets, drenched with amniotic fluid and cast a worried gaze at the midwife; he felt Lucrezia's belly, noted no discernible movement in her womb and cast another worried glance at the midwife. "Have you had contractions, my Lady?"

"Yes..." Lucrezia managed weakly, "One, since the Cardinal left me..."

"Niccola..."

"Yes, I know..." The old woman began to massage Lucrezia's belly. "The child is high..."

"I'm going to check you now, my Lady, to see how you're progressing, yes? Try to relax..." Don Massa said as he checked her cervix. "She's early but looks good to progress fully," he said to the midwife then; he rinsed his hands off in the basin provided by Andrea and wiped his hands dry upon the cloth she had waiting for him. "Prepare another, one cold, and set it there for me," he pointed to the top of a chest of drawers, "and another hot."

"Yes, right away."

Don Massa took hold of one of Lucrezia's swollen feet; the midwife had worked with him many times before and knew that he was testing out a new theory, recently written about by the anatomists of the time, particularly those of his own brother, Nicolaus, and da Vinci as well; he pressed a finger lightly in the middle of swelling at the top of her foot and then looked to the old woman again as they both noted the indentation left in the wake of his action; he rinsed his hands off again in the fresh basin and began to prepare the usual pain-reliving herbs. "Cardinal Bembo, please fetch a good, strong wine for the Lady."

Bembo made haste away without a word.

"My Lady, your child shall have the right of passage," the old woman kindly informed her as she continued to manipulate Lucrezia's womb. "Saint Margaret, holy Virgin and Martyr, thou didst faithfully preserve the robe of holy innocence and purity, valiantly resisting all the blandishments and allurements of the world for the love of thy Divine Spouse, Jesus Christ..."

_And only the right of passage, for that is what you mean..._ Tears came to Lucrezia's eyes then, as she joined the midwife in the prayer, her voice just barely a whisper, silently and valiantly hanging on to the hope that her child would come into the world alive and healthy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfonso, Ercole and Giulio had been present when Lucrezia finally delivered her stillborn daughter. Ercole, crushed and inconsolable, managed to stave off his tears long enough to give a loving kiss to her forehead before he was led away by Giulio.

Lady Andrea had seen to the preparation of her old apartment, where Lucrezia was to convalesce, and accompanied her transport there along with Alfonso and Cardinal Bembo.

"Please check on my Giovanni, Andrea?"

"Of course, my Lady, I shall return shortly." Andrea gave a kiss to the palm of her hand and left.

"Cardinal Bembo, do you mind?" came Alfonso's irritated voice at the man, demonstrating his unabashed inability to tolerate his presence another moment longer, and especially standing there like a sentinella beside her bed.

"She needs rest, now!" Bembo exploded at Alfonso.

"Leave us!"

"Only if such dismissal issues forth from my Lady's lips. My Lord." Bembo hissed back at him.

"Cardinal—I shall be alright."

"But My Lady—"

"Cardinal, please? I have neither the strength nor the heart to endure the rancor between the two of you at this moment; we shall trust my husband to treat with me now in the respectful manner that we both know he is most capable of and dictated at this sorrowful time, yes?"

"I shall be just beyond your salon door," Bembo assured her before he took his leave, casting daggers with his eyes at Alfonso as he went.

When he was finally gone Alfonso turned back to Lucrezia, a sneer on his face.

"Well. You wanted to return to your old rooms, did you not?"

"You are a vile demon, Alfonso d'Este, to utter such words to me."

"Yes, well, fuck your trust in me, eh?"

Lucrezia said nothing as she glared at him.

"Yes...I hear that Cesare has produced many girl-children, bastards, all of them, even of that French whore who dares to call herself a wife. Girls. Useless...girls."

"That's enough, Alfonso! You know that this child was yours! Indisputably, yours! That you are capable of murder against one of your very own no longer surprises me."

"Murder? You would blame this on me?"

"Who else? You have made these past months since Cesare's departure a living hell for me! You issued a sure death sentence against this child and surely carried it out!

"I did no such thing! A healthy woman—a pure woman—would have delivered that child into the world!"

"Really? Even a healthy woman deprived of her rest? Her peace of mind? Serenaded to sleep, countless nights, by the coarse caterwauls of harlots, lost in orgiastic and sinful abandon, instead of the gentle sounds of crickets outside of her window? Any woman, Alfonso, would be hard-pressed to deliver a living child into the world under those conditions."

"Not punishment enough for you, Lucrezia Borgia."

"Well, I will not argue that, Alfonso; you have a lifetime to punish me, but you know that the child should have been spared."

"Do I really, Lucrezia? Have a lifetime to punish you? You have produced no heir. You are less than worthless to me now."

"Your father shall expect us to try again," she countered, trying to keep her voice and her breathing level.

"Yes, that is true; and even he will grow tired of your inability to honor your most important duty to this duchy, Lucrezia, for I shall never touch you again; you have realized your precarious position here ever since your vile brother's...visit..." he spat the word at her. "Damn the final deliverance of your full dowry! Damn the recent conquests of your brother! Damn the simony your criminal father continues to partake in—his days are numbered and so are yours! The death of this child is a sure omen—to me, if not to you."

Lucrezia desperately held back her tears. "No, Alfonso; your feelings and your words demonstrate that the death of this child...is a tragedy...and a blessing."

"Only you could say such a thing."

"The child was conceived in love, Alfonso—"

"A love that YOU ruined! You and your brother!"

"Yes...a love that I ruined...and I shall pay for that sin for the rest of my life; but thank God that an innocent—our child—shall not have to live to suffer my sins and pay for them, as well."

"Yes, well, you've enough of those already, have you not? Innocent children paying for you sins..."

Lucrezia visibly smarted at his cruel words.

"And now your mind is gone, hmm? It surely must be Lucrezia, for you to be able to speak such words at me."

"And you have not lost yours? Murderer!" she screamed out at him.

"My faculties _and_ my conscience are clear, Lucrezia Borgia; clearer than ever before, so you are advised, from this day forward, to tread very lightly— _very lightly_ —with me." With that Alfonso left her as Cardinal Bembo rushed back in to console her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so the d'Este's infant daughter was buried two days later, in the modest family tomb in Il Monastero del Corpus Domini, unnamed, with an inscription that read only, "Our Beloved" above the dates of her birth and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heat of July quickly melded into the heat of August; Cardinal Pietro Bembo kept his promise to Lucrezia to remain close at hand; Alfonso had resumed his habit of spending as much time away from Estense as he could possibly manage. During his long periods away he seemed to be nothing more, to Lucrezia, than a distant figment of her imagination—until his angry countenance appeared again for some official function, or other event requiring them to be present together. The couple had returned to the very silent and separate condition that had been the state of their marriage immediately following their nuptials, and Lucrezia had remained in her apartments after the death of her daughter, with the only blessing that Alfonso had for her.

Ercole attributed her desire not to return to her marriage bed to her depression over the loss of her child and pressed neither one of them about the need to try again, for it was surely too soon; but he vowed to keep his eye on her, for the mourning period would have to end at some point and he was sure that it was within her to successfully carry an heir to term and beyond; in the meantime she had fully regained her strength and was well enough to take a seat at the Town Council and was, by the second week of August, successfully adjudicating cases.

In Rome, by that time, Pope Alexander Sixtus and His Excellency, Cesare Borgia, had already been through a vigorous round of nominations for the creation of nine new cardinals; unknown to Lucrezia then, her world was only a week away from being thrown into complete and utter turmoil, yet again.


	78. Ague

While Lucrezia began the long, lonely road to emotional recovery after the death of her daughter, her father and brother were planning to fortify Rodrigo's personal coffers by eliminating, finally, those cardinals whose votes, he had always felt, cost him more money than was necessary to have spent in order to obtain them. Three cardinals in particular had been chosen, unknown to them at the time, to begin the process of exacting the Pope's refunds. A banquet had been planned for two of them, specifically to reclaim the funds in question by way of poisoning the wealthy offenders in order to confiscate all of their holdings, as Rodrigo had made it his right to absorb, upon their demise.

The three wealthiest cardinals, then, were the recently-appointed Adriano Castellesi da Corneto; Jaime de Casanova; and Giovanni Michiel. Cardinal Michiel had been poisoned just that past April, by way of a disgruntled steward, who had been easily bribed, and just as easily disposed of by Micheletto after the deed was done.

Cardinal's da Corneto and de Casanova had been guests of His Holiness and His Excellency just two weeks before Lucrezia had lost her daughter; they were both slipped the first dose of a slow-acting poison, the rest of which was to be administered by members of their household staff, for there was no shortage of angry, vindictive servants in Rome, more that willing to become assassins; they came cheaply, at the cost of a mere hundred ducats and the promise of escape. However, both cardinals learned of the plot against them after they'd both experienced strange, yet similar, symptoms after their banquet with the Borgias, and had consulted with each other, innocently and quite by chance. Immediately suspicious, both cardinals had their household staff thoroughly and brutally interrogated, rooted out their bribed assailants, and had them put to death. Promptly thereafter both cardinals fled the Vatican: Adriano Castellesi da Corneto to his ancestral home for a "family emergency" and then a stealthy abscond to Venice; Jaime de Casanova, already very old and infirm, locked up his papal apartment, hid the keys, and retired to his palazzo, where he lived on sardines, water, the service of one maid, and relief from not being in the very near vicinity of the murderous Borgias. However, before Rodrigo could give any further orders to Cesare, and unbeknownst to them both that their paid assassins had already been dealt with and were no more, the terrifying Spaniards had fallen ill some six days after the banquet.

They were in Rodrigo's apartment one evening discussing family matters, amongst other things.

"Ah...this heat..." Rodrigo grumbled as he removed his crucifix and hurriedly unbuttoned his robe, "and these wretched mosquitoes!" he slapped at one and began scratching furiously at the swollen bite on his arm, which was one of many that had already been plaguing him. "Does this summer seem hotter than usual to you, Cesare?"

"Not particularly, Holy Father, no more than any other Italian summer."

"Lucrezia should be ready to deliver her child soon—have you had any word from her recently?"

"No."

"She should have sent for her mother, by now, to come to Ferrara and assist her, We would think..."

"Yes, it seems that should have been the case by now."

Rodrigo noted the irritation in his son's voice. "Well? What's wrong with you?" he grumbled the question at his son.

"I guess the night is rather abysmal..." Cesare said through a frown as he tore at the stays on his doublet.

"Yes, We—" Rodrigo had taken a step in Cesare's direction and suddenly faltered. "Oh..."

"What is it? Father?"

"Oh, We...I...don't...know...I'm so very over-heated, all of a sudden...and very ti—" before either he or Cesare could say another word Rodrigo vomited violently upon the floor and lost his balance.

"Father! Father!" Cesare shot up from his chair and just barely caught Rodrigo in time. "Father—you're burning up," his son noted in alarm as he put a hand to his father's cheek. "MEDIC! MEDIC!"

But Rodrigo heard nothing more as his eyes rolled to the top of his head and he began to convulse in his son's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where is he? Where..." Rodrigo moaned softly from his bed.

"Who, Rodrigo?" It was Cardinal Ascanio Sforza keeping vigil over the sick Pontiff.

"Where..." he moaned and then slipped into unconsciousness again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare? Cesare, can you hear me?"

"I...I counseled with him..."

"Cesare? Of whom do you speak?"

"I sought his counsel...and...I cannot find the thread..."

"Cesare, it's me—Micheletto—can you hear me, my friend?"

"What was it...he told me? I cannot find it...the thread...I...must not...do it..."

"Who, Cesare? You must not do what?"

"Juan...Juan was here...I...think..."

"You had no counsel with Juan, my Lord," Micheletto told him delicately.

"I did...he told me...Micheletto?"

"Yes, my Lord, Micheletto."

"He told me, Micheletto..."

"Told you what, Cesare?"

"I cannot...remember...the names...I must remember...what he told me..." Cesare continued to moan through his delirium.

"What's wrong with him?" Micheletto hissed at Laurent de Cauliaco, Rodrigo's physician, standing at the other side of Cesare's bed.

"After my examination of His Holiness and His Excellency, today, I can say with certainty that they are both suffering from bad air, Captain."

"Not poison?"

"No. Not poison," de Cauliaco said firmly.

"Are you sure?"

"Captain Corella, I come from a long line of physicians, many of whom who have served throughout Italy and at the Vatican before me—believe me, I know marsh fever when I see it..."

"Well, then what is to be done?"

"Well, I expect His Excellency to come through this, he is young and robust..."

"And His Holiness? He is robust for his age, is he not? He will come through this as well, will he not?"

"I'm afraid to say, Captain Corella, that his age is working against him."

"And Cesare? How long before he comes out of this fever?"

"The symptoms are cyclical: fever; chills; vomiting; severe headache—the fever could break today or in the next three days; there are certain herbs that will be used...for His Holiness blood-letting has been required and will be performed again. It is a 'wait-and-see' situation, for both men, but His Holiness's situation is far more dire than his son's, at this point. As a matter of fact, I must get back to him now. Pray for them both, hmm?" de Cauliaco gave the worried Captain a sympathetic pat upon his shoulder. "My assistant is here for him around the clock with orders to alert me if there is any sign of more dangerous symptoms, yes?" With that de Cauliaco rushed away to see to the Pope.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later Cesare had come through the first round of his illness; he was weakened, but conscious, and had been counseled by de Cauliaco; their first private moment alone he sought Micheletto's report.

"My father?"

"He is not recovering well, Cesare; he is in and out of consciousness—Cardinal Sforza is keeping vigil at your father's bedside."

"Cardinals da Corneto and de Casanova?"

"Gone from the Vatican—but will be easily found."

"I want your best men, Micheletto, to close all of the doors that access my father's rooms and to guard them; and I want de Casanova—he has the key to all of my father's treasure—I want his apartment searched—find him."

"Done, my Lord."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Micheletto carried out Cesare's orders, Rodrigo had come around long enough one evening to find Cardinal Sforza lightly dozing in a chair beside his bed.

"Ascanio..." he called weakly to the man; Ascanio awakened easily and came to attention.

"Forgive me, Holiness, I dozed—"

"I do appreciate you keeping vigil, Ascanio, but you must get your own rest..."

"I'm fine, Rodrigo, but thank you. Cesare has seen to it that you are well guarded without all doors that lead to you; there have been many attendants in this room these past days and I find it necessary to remain here."

Rodrigo and Ascanio exchanged knowing looks.

"Vannozza?"

"She knows nothing, per your last conscious instruction—are you sure that you don't want her here, Rodrigo?"

"It is too dangerous...simply too dangerous, now."

"You will recover, Rodrigo..."

Rodrigo gave the man an appreciative look. "Ascanio, one must never lie to a dying man, hmm?"

"Rodrigo—"

"I can be honest about that; I cannot afford to be anything other than that, now. I am just a man, Ascanio; guilty of many things: greed, lust; pleasures of the flesh...ambition—for myself and my children—I hurt many people."

Ascanio could see that Rodrigo was ready to face all of his truths and that he would not be placated or coddled. "Yes, and committed many other sins, Rodrigo."

"Yes, many others: I absolved one son for the murder of another..."

"Yes, Rodrigo."

"I loved them both..."

"Of course you did."

"I did some good while I was here even as I broke every vow...repeatedly..."

"Yes, you did, Rodrigo."

"I pitted you against your own family..."

"A professional hazard, Rodrigo."

"I pitted my own family against one another."

"Yes."

"I am no different than any other man, Ascanio."

"You are not, Rodrigo, this is true."

"A man of great weakness, I am. You almost killed me once, yourself—what made you still your hand, Ascanio?"

"Ah...yes..." Ascanio smirked at him and then looked away, shaking his head in reprimand at himself; he looked back into Rodrigo's eyes. "Saw that, did you?"

Rodrigo nodded at him.

"A curious thing happened, Rodrigo—it turned out that I considered you a dear friend—I still do."

"They will smite my name and ruin my family, Ascanio; my Cesare stands no chance without me." Rodrigo's face was grim and his tone was sober and full of anger.

"Your destiny was your own, Rodrigo—so it shall be for Cesare, as well."

"That does not comfort me, Ascanio."

Ascanio only smiled.

"That smile, my friend, so impish yet so full of love...you would cause my last breath on earth to be one of laughter...why am I laughing, Ascanio? The plight of my son is not funny in the least..." Rodrigo's light laughter was followed by a little coughing fit; Ascanio handed him a goblet of water and helped Rodrigo to drink from it, then spoke again.

"Laughter, my friend, is not something we ever indulged in enough—I don't think that God faults you now—I certainly do not. If I should dare to make it to the Papal throne, you know that Cesare will have my full support, Rodrigo."

"I would endeavor the Papal throne for you, my friend, regardless of my wishes for my son."

"Thank you for that, my friend. Rodrigo?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ever going to die? I do have other things to do today..."

Rodrigo's immediate laughter turned into a full coughing fit then. "Ah, Ascanio," he struggled to control his distress, "you do today with your jokes what you would not with Caterina's blade..."

"I'm trying, Holiness," said Ascanio as he reached again for the goblet and helped Rodrigo to drink.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

"She will not accept it, nor should she—but please offer my sincerest apology to your cousin Caterina, Ascanio. For what I did to her, I deserve the hell that I am going to."

"You do, dear friend, and I will," The smirk on Ascanio's face at Rodrigo was ever impish and it made Rodrigo smile.

"It is good to be sent off by an honest man, Ascanio. Thank you for hearing me."

"You are most welcome, Holiness. Please die now, Rodrigo, the Devil doesn't want to have to re-light the flames..."

Rodrigo had another laughing spell, but weathered it much better than the ones before.

"No? So, I'm not sending you off today after all, then?" Ascanio's smile at Rodrigo then was a warm one.


	79. August 18, 1503

It was Sunday, August 15, 1503; the hot summer sun burning brightly in the sky might as well have been residing inside of the body of Pope Alexander Sixtus, for the fever raging through it was just as hot; his bones and muscles ached deeply and his condition was steadily worsening with each hour; and Rodrigo's conversation with Cardinal Ascanio Sforza just three days earlier was the last truly coherent one he was ever to have with anyone again.

Cesare wasn't doing much better, suffering, by that time, through the next cycle of the disease that had rendered him weak, jaundiced, ever nauseous, and unable to leave his bed, let alone the confines of his quarters at the Vatican, which he refused to vacate in order to remain as near to his father as possible.

For those in the know, the conditions of the Borgia Pope and his murderous bastard son were the cause of continued polarization within the Sacred College; for there were many that were quite ready to see the old Spaniard die and who would rejoice vocally over the happy outcome of the younger Spaniard's demise.

Yet there were enough that still held their loyalties; Cesare knew, that should his father pass, he was in firm possession of twelve sure votes; votes that would help send Cardinal Piccolomini to the Papal throne, and thus, himself, to the success his father had envisioned for them both. The tensions roiling under the roof of the Basilica between those factions were as passionate as ever; every day that went forward without word of either Spaniard's improvement in health sparked either great hope or great dread, and no end to heated, though very quiet, conjecture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the next day, tongues wagging within Saint Peter's began to manifest in the form of correspondences, sent by various Cardinals to their own Noble relatives. And so it was that by Tuesday evening of that week that the Duke of Ferrara, Ercole d'Este, had received such a missive from his son, the cardinal Ippolito d'Este.

He'd had a lovely day in attendance at the Town Hall, watching Lucrezia administer to the cases brought before her and was enjoying a discussion of the highlights of a particular land dispute she'd handled when a messenger arrived and interrupted dinner.

"Ah...duty calls, it seems—excuse me, please, would you both?" he asked of Lucrezia and Alfonso as he pushed away from the table.

"Of course, my Lord," Lucrezia smiled up at him, sorry that he was leaving and that she would have to suffer her husband's annoying presence all by herself.

Alfonso nodded at his father and then turned to his wife after he disappeared from sight. "Just you and me, then, hmm? My heart aches for you," he said nastily before he grabbed his goblet and took a long sip from it.

"There is remedy for that, my Lord..." Lucrezia said calmly as she rose to leave him; Alfonso grabbed violent hold of her wrist easily before she got away. "Get your hand off of me, Alfonso, or—"

"Or what?" he growled at her through tight lips and a sneer. Before she could answer him Ercole had come back into the room.

"Ah...young love," the old man sighed his happy misinterpretation at them.

Lucrezia had been caught many times, in the midst of one her many, quiet yet intense battles with her volatile husband, but had conditioned herself to refrain from the always immediate impulse to slap his face or bash his head in; it was only because she didn't want it to be so evident to her loving father-in-law that her marriage was ever a sham and a failure; he would find out soon enough when no heir was produced, for Alfonso was determined to sabotage her standing with his father and her future in Ferrara. In the short time since their child had died that occurrence was a daily one, for Alfonso was always about.

"You are going to need the loving arms of your husband at this moment, my dear Lucrezia." Ercole's tone then was very sad. "Come with me, please—both of you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia stared in shock at the space before her after Ercole read the portion of his letter about the girl's father and brother. "Malaria...Ippolito is sure, my Lord? His Holiness and Cesare both?"

"More than Ippolito, my dear, the physician is sure."

"I...I must go to them..."

"Lucrezia, I do not mean to be indelicate, but, God forbid, if His Holiness does not survive—dear girl, you know what happens in the streets of Rome at the passing of a Pope—your very life would be in mortal danger..."

"Even more so because I am Borgia, you can say it, my Lord," Lucrezia said bitterly.

"No, no, no...now, stop that..." Ercole went to her where she sat beside her husband in his office and gave a loving pat to her shoulder; he also gave a questioning look at his son, who sat silent and stone-faced beside her.

"With the proper escort, father, she could be quite fine."

"Are you completely daft? That would be a sure suicide mission!" the old man bellowed his consternation at his son.

"Well, she loves her family so...they're all so close..." Alfonso turned to his wife and gave her a pointed look. "I can only imagine how I would feel in such a situation," he offered glibly.

"Really? And I would lose you both, then, for surely you would accompany your wife, hmm? Yes?"

Alfonso said nothing as Ercole and Lucrezia both gave him an indignant look.

"I forbid it, Lucrezia, I'm sorry. Your safety is everything to me, and if His Holiness could counsel you I am certain, though it would break his heart to do so, he would say the same."

"I must warn my mother, at least my Lord, with a letter, for she has said nothing to me and I am inclined to believe she is ignorant of their condition or the possible danger she could be in, herself."

"Of course, my love—I have not sent the messenger back, he leaves in the morning—do get your missive ready and I will have him take it to her, straightaway, upon pain of death."

Thank you, my Lord, excuse me, please."

"Of course, dearest."

Lucrezia left them.

"What in hell was that about? Have you lost all reason, Alfonso?"

"I was just thinking of Lucrezia, father."

"I've no more words for you, Alfonso, go away from me now; it looks like we'll have much to discuss and quite possibly very soon—go see to your wife and make amends for that callous, insensitive display—go on!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfonso entered Lucrezia's salon without even so much as a tap at the door; before, Princess would have been there to at least alert her, but she now slept happily every night on the floor at the foot of Giovanni's crib. Lucrezia was at her desk writing her letter to her mother; without looking in his direction or stopping at her task she addressed him.

"You really do wish me dead, I see; you've said it often enough these past weeks and months, so I'm sure that I should not be surprised. Well, I'm sorry, Alfonso; even though I grudgingly agree with your father it warms my heart that he cares so much about me and I must see reason in this matter. It would have been so nice for you, I'm sure, the prospect of three dead Borgias to count yourself lucky to be rid of, yes? Well, better luck next time, husband, I'm sure that you'll find a way to make it happen sooner or later. Is there something else that I may do for you? If not, would you allow me, my Lord, to finish this in peace?"

Lucrezia was stopped at her task by the sudden feel of Alfonso's arms about her waist and his face buried in the long, full tendrils of her loosened hair cascading down her back; it was not an assault, even though she bristled immediately from his touch; she came to realize that he was hugging her.

"Alfonso...what..."

"I'm sorry, Lucrezia, I am truly sorry; that your father and your brother appear to be so deathly ill; I did not mean what I said, so used to rancor between us—I've not spoken one civil word to you since our baby died and then tonight...I'm sorry."

"I must be honest with you, Alfonso, your kindness is more off-putting than your cruelty—please let me go..."

"I was finally blessed with your favor, Lucrezia, and I did not appreciate it. And then we had a child that God has seen fit to gather back to his bosom. If you have never believed anything of my intent toward you before this day, please believe of me now—I am most aggrieved for you at this time over the condition of your father...and for your upset over the fate of your beloved brother...and for us over our daughter.

"I have denied you much, these past years, these past months...out of spite and jealousy, but you must know this now—as much as my heart aches for you at this time, and as much as you desire to go to your family is understood and well-warranted— _I_ would not have you do it, you must know that, my most precious love—you are not well, yourself, you know this; you've been soldiering on, but I know the emotional burdens you suffer, and the physical ones, no thanks to me and along with everything else. The journey to Rome...your arrival there—your life would be in peril at either juncture, and even if you survived both of those, your return to me alive would be highly unlikely—as much as I hate to say it, I simply would not have you risk it, Lucrezia, I didn't mean what I said at dinner."

"Please unhand me, Alfonso."

"Do you not believe me?"

"I don't know what to believe, anymore, Alfonso, where you are concerned. You are so good with the words...but not with your demonstration of them. Thank you, truly, for your wishes, for I do feel that they are sincere; but they do not erase...the hate...between us...going on for so long, now."

"Yes, I understand; but my empty threats and wishes for your murder have become a force of habit, that's all."

Alfonso's sheepish, yet morbid admission somehow forced a chuckle out of his surprised wife.

"That _is_ not funny, yet I am laughing—how is that possible, Alfonso?"

"Because deep down, you know that you still love me, Lucrezia, and that I love you."

"You threw me, pregnant, into a dungeon, Alfonso d'Este."

"But I let you out..."

Lucrezia gave an incredulous groan at him. "You humiliated me with Lucia—you sent my friend, and her baby, into the night, in the dead of winter, with nothing except the clothes on their delicate backs—I am supposed to forgive you for that?"

"I brought them back safely and sent them safely away—as well as Lucia," he smiled hopefully at her.

"Is this all a joke to you? For you do not sound sorry, in the least, Alfonso. And you did not send Lucia away, she made a bargain for her release and left you..." Lucrezia peeled his arms away from her, rose from her seat and went to the door. "I know you now, after these short years that feel like a hundred: Cesare is ill and you think that he is dying—and he could well be. And so you think that I can finally be yours, freed from the presence of his life on this earth. But he could live, Alfonso, and what then? I will tell you what, then: the beast will rear his ugly head again and his hard heart, and all of these words...these wonderful, perfect words...will mean absolutely nothing."

"You are not giving me a chance, Lucrezia..."

"I am speaking from a very certain experience, Alfonso, based on a pattern of behavior that you have displayed time and time again. Now, my Lord, I am humbly asking that you allow me this moment to finish my letter?"

"Have my words had no bearing on your heart at all?"

"My heart, Alfonso..." a single tear rolled down her cheek, "my heart...to reach my heart would be to plumb the depths of despair...deeper than any ocean...I have tried to raise it myself but at every turn there has been some occasion that damns my endeavor and sends it hurtling back down the abyss; and now my family faces its very darkest hour, it seems, so I must be honest with you and say, no, Alfonso, they do not."

The brave yet sad look in her eyes at him only cemented her words and Alfonso felt helpless to do anything more. "I am truly sorry about that, Lucrezia, please believe that, even if you believe nothing else." He dared to take one her hands and gave a delicate kiss to the back of it; without another word he honored her wish and left her to her peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lucrezia's letter reached her mother its contents would no longer be news, for Vannozza dei Cattanei received a messenger of her own that same evening.

"Cardinal Sforza? What brings you here?"

"My Lady, I'm sorry for this intrusion, but I have dire news for you..." the frowning man said as he was escorted into the dining hall were Vannozza was hosting her former husband. "I mean no disrespect, but may I have a private word with you?"

"Cardinal, Theo is family," she nodded at the man sitting at her table, "whatever you have to tell me he may hear as well—what on God's earth is the trouble?"

"My Lady, I'm afraid His Holiness is very near death's door..."

Vannozza let out an involuntary gasp and then a snort of disbelief. "What?"

"He and Cesare—"

"Cesare? He _and_ Cesare?"

"My Lady, they have both been ill these past weeks—malaria..."

"Malaria?" As her tone became angry through her shocked, parroted words Theo rose up from the table to come stand by her side. "Malaria? Weeks? And I am just now hearing—"

"We had hoped that he would recover—he did not want to alarm you, but...he has taken a sure turn for the worse—it will be a miracle if he makes it to morning..."

"And Cesare?"

"Fares better than his father, but not by much; they have both been shut up in the Vatican in separate quarters, too ill to even see one another..."

"I must go to them..."

"You cannot, my Lady, it is most unsafe for you to do so..."

"I _must_ go to them, Cardinal..." she said in a fury then.

"And I'm telling you that should you do so you would be taking your own life into your hands, my Lady," Ascanio insisted.

"Vannozza, you know that he's right," Theo urged her gently.

"My Rodrigo? My baby? Near death?"

"Only Rodrigo, my Lady, His Holiness's attending physician assures us that Cesare will come through it in time. And there's something else..."

"What?"

"della Rovere has returned from France—you can imagine what that means for the impending Conclave..."

"Oh yes, I can imagine..."

"And the Roman families are already aligning...tipped-off to the current state of affairs by their kinsmen in the Vatican."

"Of course..." she said through gritted teeth and a faraway look in her eyes.

"You must prepare yourself for the worst—it would be wise for you to make haste away from Rome, as soon as possible."

"And I am telling you that I must see them."

"And I will say again, that if you try to do so your safety is less than guaranteed, my Lady; Cesare still has a large army, more than loyal to him; they guard him and Rodrigo at the Vatican and hold the Borgo, as well, but soon they will be put to the test in earnest—there are four other armies here in Rome; they are put off by the number in Cesare's, but when the Pope expires the major families will surely advance; and only the Colonna have pledged neutrality, so we are speaking of eight other families, who will be emboldened to commence righting the wrongs that have been inflicted against them—do you understand me?"

"Yes, I have been duly forewarned, Cardinal, and I thank you," came her cold, sober reply.

Ascanio gave a worried look at the kindly gentleman by her side.

"Vannozza, sit, my love, while I escort the Cardinal out..."

But Vannozza did not hear him as she began to pace a slow circle about the room, planning her silent strategy to gain access to Rodrigo and her son.

"Do all that is humanly possible to keep her away from the Vatican, I'm telling you that His Holiness may pass at any moment now..."

"I understand Cardinal, I will take her away from here...tonight," Theo assured him.

Ascanio gave the man his nod of thanks but was not at all comforted by his assurance. "Yes, well, you've your work cut out on that one, but I must get back. Godspeed to you both."

"And to you, Cardinal; thank you for coming to her."

"Of course." and with that Ascanio left to meet up with his escort, mounted his horse and raced away back to the Vatican.

No sooner had the Cardinal disappeared from Theo's sight that Vannozza appeared before him, in her cloak and ready to head in the same direction as her visitor.

"Vannozza! No! Do not do this! And alone? You have no escort..."

"It is a short distance, Theo, and he's not dead yet—you cannot stop me."

"Then I will ride with you—just...just wait here a moment, I'll get the horses..."

When they reached the Vatican gates Vannozza stopped. "Theo, this is as far as I would have you go, for if anything happens to me, I'm counting on you to—"

"I will not leave you now, Vannozza."

"But you must—you must get safely away from here. I can handle myself from here, truly I can; and I thank you, for your love and your truest friendship all of these years..."

"This is not goodbye, Vannozza..."

"No, it isn't—and if you ride away now it will cement my intention to see you again."

"Vannozza..."

"Go on, now."

Theo brought his horse closer to hers so that he could kiss her hand. "Be careful. I'll be waiting for you."

"Yes, my love, we will see each other again soon; thank you for your escort."

"Of course, my love."

She blew a final kiss at him and then rode on through the gate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Vannozza dei Cattanei—you are ever the brave one."

"Of course—you."

"And good evening to you, my Lady."

"There's nothing good about it."

"Oh, I beg to differ."

Vannozza had been allowed into the Vatican but was escorted immediately to the Camera Minerva, where the army of the Sacred College was stationed, and led to an office within it, waiting for someone to come and take her to her two sick men; it was Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere who had been retrieved to come and deal with her.

"Found your way back from France, I see."

"It was only a visit. And yes, duty did indeed call me back. Now, how may I help you?"

"You know damn well that I want to see them."

"Oh, I'm afraid that isn't possible."

"I have two working legs, Giuliano; I can walk myself back to the Vatican and make myself known to Cesare's guards, they will not deny me."

"Yes, well, you would have to get past mine, now, in order for that to happen. And that's not going to happen."

"Get out of my way, Giuliano..." Vannozza made to push past him but della Rovere caught her up in his aggressive embrace.

"I loved you, Vannozza, and you rejected me—for him!"

A look of pure disgust formed on her face at him. "You dare?"

"You dared! A good Roman woman, such as you were then! To debase yourself with that unholy Spanish Beast!"

"At this late date, Giuliano? Please spare me this utter bullshit."

"Things could have been so different, Vannozza..."

Vannozza gave him a snort of derision. "You liked your girls _and_ your boys, Giuliano—you forgot me easily when you took to your robes—until Rodrigo came calling for me..."

"You chose that half-breed Spaniard! Over me? I'll say it again, I loved you, Vannozza!"

"But not enough, Giuliano, not enough. He is a man not unlike yourself: ambitious; determined—he had a clear vision, from the first moment we met, and no matter what came after, and in spite of everything, his vision always included me. He was not a perfect man then or now: he's committed many crimes, but he's far from the only criminal in the Vatican; he is not infallible; he has not always been right; he has been a schemer. But to a fault, Giuliano, he is also full of love; love for the Holy Mother Church, which accepted him, and for Rome, which has not; for his children—for me. He has brought about my greatest sorrows—and my greatest joys. He has done awful things in his life, Giuliano, but he also done some some good. For the world that we live in, he is as every other man in this Basilica and just that: a man. He has honored his God and he has honored his throne, but he's never forgotten his limitations; he's never forgotten that he is a man first, with a mere man's weaknesses; and it has been those times, when he's honored that fact first, Giuliano, that he's done his best works; his most humane and loving works; exacted his fairest diplomacies; served his God and this Rome so well that he loves so much; serving us Romans—so full of hate, even for each other—ever for each other...and he loves us, anyway.

"I would take back none of it, Giuliano; I would change none of my choices, change nothing in my life, except this: if I were able I would eradicate the greed of men; greed that brings so much unnecessary sorrow to God's good people the world over. I would change that. But we do not live in such a world, Giuliano, and you and Rodrigo both are men of this world."

della Rovere released her, horrified at her vehemence; hurt, still, by her passion for his dying rival. "Well."

"Get out of my way, Giuliano, I want to see them."

"Well."

Vannozza was stuck suddenly by the strange, quiet timber of his voice. "I cannot believe that you harbor feelings for me, still, Giuliano, not after everything you've done, and would do still, to try and destroy my family. For the last time, let me go on my way."

"Oh, but I do, Vannozza, harbor feelings for you still—and find you as unworthy as you ever were of my truest affections. Rodrigo is dying; you shall NEVER see him again! He shall go to hell and I am certain, when your time comes, you will join him there! GUARDS!"

His Guards came for her then and took her roughly in hand.

"What is this?"

"Take her to Castel Sant'Angelo—to the dungeons."

"What is this? You have no right! Unhand me!" Vannozza struggled to no avail against her assailants. "Do as you will with me, then, Giuliano! Do as you will! For I would sooner join him, in his heaven or his hell, than I would remain here without him! Do as you will!" Vannozza screamed as she was dragged away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the hour of vespers the next evening, Wednesday, August 18, 1503, Pope Alexander Sixtus, Roderic Llançol i de Borja, passed away from the world of the living.


	80. He Is Gone

"Laughter? Laughter! An outrage!" It was Giuliano della Rovere, who had stormed into Rodrigo's former chamber, interrupting Vice-Chancellor Sforza and Johannes Burchart in discussion with the Chancellor of the Apostolic Camera, whom Ascanio was busy trying to hold off until Cesare had secured his father's treasure. The three men glared angrily at the Cardinal, for many hours had passed and, amongst other dire issues, Rodrigo had not yet been officially declared dead to the public.

"What is it that pains you now, Giuliano?" Ascanio asked him with a voice full of irritation. "Can you not see that we are busy?"

"I've heard about the Devil on his deathbed—that he went to his death laughing at us all!" the outraged man declared.

"He did no such thing, your spies have lied to you. As is usual."

"He will not have the last laugh, no he will not; say that his body is black through and through and that no one would touch it! Because the Devil has reclaimed his beloved own!"

It was true that Rodrigo's body was decomposing at an alarming rate; black, swollen and hideous to behold, it had been determined easily that it would not be allowed the tradition of lying in state at the Basilica of St. Peter's; but Giuliano's relentless vitriol against the dead man was more of an abomination to Ascanio than the wretched thing his friend's body had become.

"That is not true, it is only the effects of the malaria and this wretched heat..."

"Do not disobey me! I would have the world know this man as the evil incarnate that he was!"

"Disobey you? Yours is not the final authority in this matter, Giuliano."

"After all that he did to you, Ascanio? Everything that he cost you? Have you forgotten 1494? You stood with us, then, to depose the Devil, your very self!"

Ascanio addressed the two uneasy men he had been in discussion with. "Cardinal...Burchart—would you excuse me a moment, please?"

Both men nodded and left the room reluctantly, for they surely wanted to hear the ensuing row.

"Gentlemen, please?" Ascanio insisted. When they were finally alone he turned back to della Rovere. "Well, he won that one, didn't he, Giuliano? None of it matters a damn, now."

"Oh, you are so very wrong about that, brother."

"Aren't you satisfied, Giuliano, to be on the way to his chair at last? You could win your seat this time around, hmm? Must you go to these ends now that the man is dead?"

"I could be satisfied if his end was _the_ end—but there is another who walks this earth and until he is dealt with I will know no such satisfaction."

"He lies ill himself, you know this—maybe your prayers for his death will have their intended effect," Ascanio remarked snidely.

"Yes, I have prayed for it," della Rovere replied boldly, "but a blade would yield better results."

"You dare!" Ascanio erupted at him.

"These Borgias are as resilient as cockroaches, Ascanio, and surely young Cesare—he must be stamped out or he will survive to try and further his father's mad ambitions..."

"And you make these sentiments known to me for what purpose?"

"No purpose, brother, I know where you stand on the issue of the Borgias." _Traitor. I will offer my condolences, appear sincere; I will bring Cesare to my bosom and make him feel secure; and then I will smite him mightily, in all that he endeavors._ "Simply know this, Ascanio: I will see this Vatican restored to its former honor."

Ascanio was unable to hold back his disgusted harrumph at the gall of the the hypocrite before him. "You have to get to the chair, first— _brother_."

"Is that some sort of threat, Ascanio?"

"It is a reminder, Giuliano, that at this point in time, and contrary to your own delusions of grandeur, you run nothing."

"But I have influence, Ascanio; I _will_ end him; maybe not tomorrow, nor soon enough to suit myself and the world; but I will see to it that Cesare Borgia's end comes long before my own."

With that della Rovere stormed out of the room; on the other side of the door was Cesare's Captain, Micheletto Corella, with a look in his piercing blue eyes that was full of murderous intent at the Cardinal; della Rovere stopped in his tracks and shrank just a little inside of himself out of fear, then steeled himself at the fact that, though the man had tried to kill him once before, he had failed; and no matter what the Captain's truest desire or ability, he would not dare to try it again.

"Move out of my way, you piteous sycophant—you will soon find out, to your own sure detriment, that you chose the wrong side."

Micheletto drew closer to him and hemmed the Cardinal against the closed door; because of his own well-founded hatred of the man and combined with what he had just learned, he did indeed want to tear the man limb-from-limb with his own bare hands; only protocol was responsible for saving the man's life at that moment.

The two men stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity; della Rovere wanted to rub the salt in the wound that was his enemy's previous failure, so many years before, with a verbal taunt, but easily decided to hold his tongue, for the man seemed as close to tossing protocol to the wind as he was to his face.

"You wish," Micheletto grunted his low, savage threat at the man.

"Get out of my way," della Rovere tried to keep the mounting fear out of his voice as he made to push past, but Micheletto slammed him forcefully back upon the door.

"Who is it now?" It was Ascanio's perturbed face that greeted both men as he yanked the door open, causing della Rovere to fall against him. "What's going on here?"

"Tell him," Micheletto hissed at the man. "TELL HIM!"

"Micheletto? What is it?"

But della Rovere remained silent, and then became defiant, emboldened by the presence of another who would either be a witness to murder, or prevent the beast in front of him from actually going through with it; without another word he made to push past the Captain again and was relieved to find that his second try was, very barely, allowed.

"What in God's name is–"

"Come with me..."

"Micheletto, you know what I'm about here, have you—"

"de Casanova has been apprehended; we have confiscated that which we were instructed to—you may have the Pope declared dead—but first—come with me, Cardinal..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ascanio and Micheletto were in the dungeons of Castel Sant'Angelo, both shocked at the appearance of a woman, disheveled, distraught, and clad only in her thin chemise.

"Oh, God, no..." Ascanio moaned his disgust.

"Cardinal! Captain!"

"My Lady, has anyone harmed you?" he asked her, outraged.

"No, Cardinal, I am fine; I have no use for finery here; my gown is simply more useful as a pallet upon this filthy floor. How is my son?"

"della Rovere..."

"Of course, della Rovere, Cardinal—he's rounded up many Borgias this evening—Cesare's cousin cardinal's..." Micheletto supplied through tight lips.

"My Lady, I do not mean to scold, but I told you not—"

"How is my son, Cardinal?" Vannozza begged him.

Ascanio's face softened at her. "His progress is slow, my Lady, but he's getting better."

"Do not tell Cesare, Cardinal...that I am here..."

"But, my Lady..."

"della Rovere has made sure to have only the worst news from above trickle down to me—I have heard, with great relish from his guard, of the particulars of Rodrigo's death and the ill-treatment of his corpse in preparation for the funeral...a travesty, I tell you..."

Both men could see the glisten of tears upon her cheeks in the torchlight; Vannozza wiped them away furiously as she pulled herself valiantly back together.

"As horrid as this place is, I may be better off here than released to the streets; Cesare will have enough to contend with just leaving the Vatican, himself, Cardinal Sforza, after Rodrigo is pronounced dead, for I have also heard that the call has been made for his immediate removal—please do not trouble him about me, I will survive this...Captain...both of you—promise me that you will say nothing?"

"But he may try to come see you..." said Ascanio, uneasy at the idea of keeping such a thing from the man, and the consequence of him finding out later.

"He will have to leave Vatican City to placate the people, we all know this, he will not come for me."

"And if he should summon you?"

"Then I escaped Rome, Cardinal, upon your warning..."

Micheletto had always admired the Contessa, for birthing Cesare, first and foremost, and for being a woman with sense, and a practical head; he saw plainly at that moment from where Lucrezia had inherited her strength.

"We will not tell him, Contessa...and we will see you safely out of here."

"Thank you, Captain, but mind your own safety, first, yes? Yours and that of my son?"

"Nothing will stop me from it, my Lady."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will this wretched night never end," Ascanio fumed as he and Micheletto marched back to Rodrigo's chambers to deal with the Chancellor of the Apostolic Camera, who would issue the death certificate, and then the Camerlengo, who would officially seal up Rodrigo's bedroom and study.

The two cardinal's were waiting with Burchart upon Ascanio's return.

"Vice-Chancellor, it is near to morning—the Pope's death must be certified!"

"Yes, do it!" Ascanio barked at them and then left again with Micheletto to go and see Cesare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Excellency, they will pronounce your father dead at sunrise," Ascanio reported to the sick man. "How are you feeling?"

"As well as I'm going to, it seems. Thank you both for your expediency in all matters these horrid past hours and days. Is my father being seen to properly?"

"I will not lie to you—no, he is not; his remains have suffered horribly under the heat—it will be impossible to permit him to lie in state. Your cousin cardinal's have all been arrested and are detained at Castel Sant'Angelo...there are no family members to attend to his body and he is alone in the mortuary chamber at Saint Peter's."

Cesare gave a visible shudder, overwhelmed by sadness that his father had come to such a disrespectful end. _And they will do worse to my corpse if they are given the chance_ , he freely admitted to himself.

He found it hard to believe that his father was gone, for he had not seen his life leave him with his own eyes; had not seen the obvious and tangible evidence after the fact; it was the day that he had always dreaded, and not for the obvious reasons that his detractors would ever and always ascribe to him; further, he had always thought, when the day inevitably came, that he would feel the crushing weight of his father's expectations lift away from him; that he would feel free, like a bird soaring high into the heavens, bound to nothing but the joy of flight; but he did not feel like that all.

The man that was gone was his father: the man who done everything in his power that it had been possible to do for a son; the man who had tasked him with great and seemingly impossible ambitions; the man who had made him a Prince of the Church, and then it's protector; the man he had advocated and fought for; the man he had murdered for; the man he had come to understand, finally, yet had always understood him; the man who loved and cherished him, even through their most bitter disputes.

Cesare lamented greatly that he had not come to that understanding sooner, for it would have meant that his brother would still be living; it was after that heart-wrenching night that Mattai the Hebrew had brought them together, that Juan's death truly began to haunt Cesare. Now his father was gone; he would never hear his comical grumblings; he would never see him frown or smile; never be privy to the twinkle in his eyes that sparked whenever he had enjoyed a proud moment in his accomplishment that made Cesare's heart smile, as well; he would never feel his strong, loving embrace about him, that had always felt like the safest haven on earth. He would never experience any of those things again. Never again.

He fought the tears that were gathering momentum behind his eyes and shut them tightly, at first, to try and stave them off and control himself, for indulging in that thought any longer would cause his face to crumble and the flood of tears to begin.

"Cesare?" It was Micheletto's careful, loving voice that came softly at him then.

Cesare turned away from them both and tried desperately to comport himself; his eyelids fluttered violently as his eyes rolled to the top of his head; his throat choked up and he found it impossible to utter words; in lieu of showing his weakness by wiping at the tears that were beginning to fall and threatened to cascade in a torrent down his cheeks, he took to tossing his head back with every swipe at them that his hand was denied.

"I will come back...later...Excellency; I'm sure there are matters you must discuss with your Captain in private, and I must go and see what that dog della Rovere is up to," Ascanio said as his heart went out to the man over his genuine grief. He was already greatly angered at della Rovere's incessant and public diatribes against the two men, which included false tales such as the one that neither Borgia even inquired about each other during their illness, already running rampantly and erroneously throughout Rome.

"Yes...thank you, Cardinal," Cesare managed his hoarse reply.

Ascanio nodded at Micheletto and quietly left them.

Micheletto went to his distraught friend and sat beside him on his bed. "Cesare..."

Cesare turned to him and, unable to do anything else, let the tears go. "He's gone, Micheletto...my father...is gone?" His sobs were choked and intense.

Micheletto gathered the man into his capable embrace. "Yes, Cesare; he is gone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so all of the necessary procedures required by Church law were carried out and the Cardinal Vicar announced to the City of Rome that its Bishop, Pope Alexander Sixtus, had died; as was expected the streets erupted into immediate violence, as the people began to call for the removal of His Excellency, Cesare Borgia, from the Vatican and Rome proper, before the ensuing Papal Conclave.

The Camerlengo and the Prefect of the Papal Household notified the Dean of the College of Cardinals, and the Dean, in turn, notified the other Cardinals. Vice-Chancellor Ascanio Sforza, sent out orders to the highest among the clergy, the superiors of convents, and the secular orders, that all must appear according to regular custom, on pain of being despoiled of their office and dignities, each bringing his own company to the Vatican, to be present at the Pope's funeral. Each appeared, as they had been ordered, on the day and at the hour appointed at the pontifical palace, where the body was to be conveyed to the church of Saint Peter's, and there buried.

Within the following week Rome had become a powder keg waiting to explode. Just as Cardinal Ascanio Sforza had predicted to Contessa Vannozza dei Cattanei the week before, the Roman families who had been most impacted by the Borgias devastating campaigns against them, began to take back their lands; they also fortified the armies they had sent ahead in small numbers to Rome as a show of force after they had first heard that illness had taken both the Pope and his son into very precarious circumstances.

The Sforza retook Pesaro; the Baglioni retook Perugia; Guidobaldo da Montefeltre retook Urbino; the della Rovere retook Sinigaglia; the Vitelli entered Citta di Castello; the Appiani retook Piombino; and the Orsini retook Monte Giordano and their other territories. The Romagna alone remained loyal, for the people had been greatly relieved by the deposition of Countess Caterina Sforza and were still very happy under His Excellency's governance.

The Colonna had pledged that they would remain neutral and had been restored to the possession of their castles and the cities of Chiuzano, Capo d'Anno, Frascati, Rocca di Papa, and Nettuno. As His Holiness had embellished and fortified their territories, the Colonna found them all in better condition than what they had been left in, and found their pledge an easy one to honor.

And so the presence of five armies in Rome had the Cardinals in the Vatican more than agitated. There was the Bishop of Nicastro's, who was the guardian of Castle Sant'Angelo; their own army stationed at the Minerva; Fabrizio Colonna's, which was firmly encamped at the Capitol; Fabio Orsino's, in barracks at the Ripetta; and of course Cesare's, which was the largest of them all and under the fearsome command of Captain Micheletto Corella.

The Cardinals summoned the ambassadors of the Emperor of Germany, the Kings of France and Spain, and the republic of Venice to aid them in their dilemma. The ambassadors, impressed with the urgency of the situation, began by declaring the Sacred College inviolable and then ordered the Orsini, the Colonna, and the Duke of Valentinois to leave Rome peacefully and go each on his own way.

The Orsini were the first to submit the first day of the following week that all of the armies had converged in full force. The next day the Colonna followed suit. Within that week the only one left to comply was Cesare, who was still desperately trying to regain some of his health.

It so happened during that time, that a certain long-returned patroness of Rome got wind of the sad circumstances of Contessa Vannozza dei Cattanei.

There had been much back-and-forth correspondence between the Ambassadors and Cesare, who had let it be known that he was more than willing to leave Rome, but had conditions that he desired to have met. He had drafted his final conditions and Cardinal Sforza and Captain Corella were discussing the particulars before the Captain would deliver them when a woman burst into the Vice-Chancellor's chambers.

"Where is my father," the handsome woman demanded.

"Felice? Felice della Rovere?" Ascanio greeted her, dumbfounded. Cardinal della Rovere had greatly depended upon her expert counsel since she had returned from Savona to Rome, but he had never enetertained her anywhere other than her own palazzo, choosing not flaunt her before the Curia as his arch rival had done with his own children. To see her in the flesh was like experiencing a vision, for the woman was quite private by nature, even though her palazzo was the most popular gathering place of all artists, scholars and other aristocratic families in Rome. She was powerful, but unassuming; the reports of her beauty, as legendary as they were, did no justice to the regal—and angry—woman standing before them.

_The beauty certainly belonged solely to the mother_ , Micheletto mused as he took in the raven-haired woman with classic and Patrician good looks.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, he's not here..."

"Would you find him, please? I must speak to him. It is most urgent."

"Micheletto, would you?"

"Gladly, Your Eminence."

Micheletto left them and returned five minutes later with the surprised Cardinal in tow.

"Felice? What are you doing here?"

"A moment with you, father. Alone. Now." She made to march away from them when Ascanio quickly spoke up.

"My Lady, you are welcome to use this office." He gave a bow at her and then he and Micheletto left them.

"Felice, what on God's earth? We agreed that you would never come here."

"Release her, father."

"What? Excuse me?"

"Contessa dei Cattanei—release her, this instant."

"Felice, this is no affair of yours and that woman—"

" _That woman_ showed me a kindness when no one else dared to, father—not even you."

"Of what are you speaking about, Felice, I don't under—"

"When mother died you never even told me; I came home, father, seeking my solace only to find her gone—eternally gone; I could not come to you and so I went to the Contessa and she showed me the greatest kindness. I owe her a debt of gratitude and I will have it exacted. This day. Release her. Or you shall never have my counsel again."

And that was a severe threat, for Giuliano depended on his daughter mightily. "Felice, you do not mean that..."

"Oh, but I do, father. I have put up with your lack of affection—"

"My lack of affection? You know that I love you, daughter! And my lack of affection is what has guaranteed your very success; would you have rather I treated as you Borgia did his children? Parading his hell-spawn about like performing monkeys? Whoring them out to the highest bidders in front of God and the world?"

"And what was my husband, father?"

"What?" della Rovere was completely outdone at his daughter's inference, which felt more like a scathing accusation.

"That beast of a man that you whored me out to, as our society dictates for its women—what of him?"

"It was not the same thing—and that is not your life, now."

"It was the same thing, father, for you benefited from that arrangement far more than I did."

"Why do you speak to me this way? One husband, that you are now free of. I have not given you over in alliance after alliance, as Borgia did with his daughter..."

"Must everything in your life be measured by Borgias?"

"Wh—what do you say to me?"

"It is because of her, that your venom targets everything Borgia, father. It is pitiful that your hate is so tenacious—release your fangs once and for all, would you please! The man is dead! All that you seek for yourself is ever available to you, so what is the point of this useless vendetta?"

"Useless vendetta? His son, girl, his son! Still...residing in this Vatican—endeavoring to keep me from all that is available to me—and to Rome!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" della Rovere replied, completely outraged.

"Is his plan for a unified Italy such a bad one? Or is it simply bad because he endeavors it?"

"Are my ears hearing correctly? You side with that murderer?" della Rovere asked his daughter, flabbergasted.

"Father, you do try my patience at this moment, truly. I can see now that a such a discussion with you will never yield any fair response or sensible dialogue, and so be it; but do not stand here and talk to me of murderers, when Rome—and this Vatican—are full of them, and always have been."

"Felice!"

"You will release her. To me. This moment."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vannozza heard the rattling of the padlocked chain against her cell and did not even look up; she had no idea of the hour or the day and was beyond caring anymore. No more news trickled down to her about Rodrigo and she was thankful for it, for the stories had been abominable; she knew nothing, either, of her sick son and had no idea what was going in the world at all. Sick with worry and afraid to touch the slop pushed through the slot for fear of being poisoned, accidentally or intentionally, she was wasting away. Even the meager tin cups of water she did not trust; she poured some out always for the rats to drink first, to see if they survived, but that test was not always a good one since they often scampered away too quickly to observe the final effect.

She thought of her daughter and her other son and wondered what the consequences were for them by that point. Hopefully Gioffre was untouched, firmly ensconced in his duties at Squillace; and Lucrezia—for her marriage appeared to be a success; the advent of the birth an heir to Ferrara was a comforting thought to her. Was the child born yet? Would she ever set foot away from her hell and be able to see her daughter again? Meet her newest grandchild? Vannozza could only hope. So lost in her own thoughts she did not properly register the kind female voice directed at her then.

"Contessa? Oh, my dear Contessa—Contessa?"

"What?" Vannozza mumbled as she looked up and saw a woman standing before the open cell door. "What?"

"Contessa, please come with me—you are free..."

"Free?"

"Yes, my love—it is me, Contessa, Felice della Rovere..."

"Felice? Felice? Oh, I have wondered after you...you returned to Rome..."

"Yes, Contessa, and because I followed your advice—I am a free woman, now—as you are...come with me..."

"Felice?"

Vannozza tried to stand; weak from hunger and so many days in the dark, dank, cramped cell, she was unable to do so without aid.

"It's alright...come...we will go to your old apartments here—I have a hot bath waiting for you and fresh clothes...come, my Lady..."

Felice signaled to a guard, one of Cesare's, to pick Vannozza up and carry her to safety.

Soon after Vannozza felt her tattered chemise being peeled away, and Felice helped her into the tub of warm, soothing water.

"He is gone, Felice," Vannozza whimpered as Felice tended to her.

"I am so sorry for your loss, my Lady."

"You mean that, don't you? Truly..."

"Yes, I do...hold your head back a little...that's it..." Felice directed her as she poured a warm bucket of water through Vannozza's hair.

"Oh..." Vannozza moaned, "he meant to end me...and almost did...thank you, dear child, for this."

"I apologize for my father, Contessa..."

"They never give us credit for understanding them, do they? And when they discover that we do they often punish us for it."

"He has always confounded me, as well, Contessa; now that I am a woman grown, yes, I understand him better...but the hurt still smarts when I think on it too much; think of other things now..."

"Do you have any news of my son?"

"He is still here but preparing to depart Rome, Contessa."

"Is he better?"

"I'm sorry, I know not—but I will find out before we leave this place; you are coming with me to my palazzo, until it is safe for you to go home."

"Safe?"

"Your inns have been vandalized, Contessa—angry peasants; you husband was attacked, but he survived, suffering very minor injury, I assure you—he is at my palazzo waiting for you."

"Theo?"

"Yes, Contessa."

"They did horrible things to Rodrigo's body..." Vannozza began to cry. "And then the world saw him at his worst and will only remember him thus; as a monster; grotesque; touched by the devil—he was none of those things...but those are the things that will be written about him..."

"History books are never a fair representation of one's real life...not when your enemies survive you to write them. What he truly was resides in your heart, Contessa, and the hearts of your children, who knew and loved him. Damn everyone else."

"You have heard the stories? Or is it just propaganda fed to me through the prison bars? Did I imagine the travesties that I heard?"

"I have heard the stories, Contessa," Felice said delicately. "He is not in that place, anymore, my dear Vannozza, his body is but a vacant vessel, now, and his soul escaped long before the abuses to that vessel were inflicted; you must try and take comfort in that instead of the horrors invading your every thought at this moment."

"There are so many that condemned him to hell while he was yet alive, and are rejoicing that he is surely there now."

"I do not believe in Heaven or Hell, my Lady; I believe those states of being are very evident aspects of our lives here on earth; let them say what they will and feel what they are wont to feel, for whether one's life was a happy one or a sad one; whether one was a sinner or a saint—I rejoice in the fact that Death delivers us to freedom; to a blessed and final end, regardless of whether others would find justice in that or not; the best of us and the worst of us all share that eventuality. He is free, my Lady, please try to take some measure of comfort in that."

"You are a savior, Felice della Rovere; I owe you an eternal debt."

"Just as once you were mine, Contessa."

Vannozza was finally able to take over the some of the task of bathing herself while Felice patiently waited.

"You should see your son before you leave here, my Lady, I can arrange it..."

Vannozza stopped at her task in a panic and turned in the tub to face the woman, fear more than evident in her eyes. "No! No! Cesare does not know that I am here—I insisted of the Vice-Chancellor and his Captain that they say nothing to him, Felice—it would surely drive him to the murder of your father—he must not be worried with this! Please assure me that you will not let word of my imprisonment get back to him?"

"But you could say that I sneaked you in..."

"He would be immediately suspicious, from my appearance alone, and I would have to explain it—no, I appreciate that you would do such a thing, but more than anything I just want to know how he fares and if he is getting better...please? I refuse to believe that his ambitions have died with his father, but if he kills your father— a wrong never begets a right; it may be late in the game but my son needs to walk a different path than his father did if he expects to find true success of his own."

"You would see my father's life spared? After everything he has done? To you and yours?"

"I loved your father once, for at one time in his life he was a lovable man; and then there is you, Felice—I could never wish for the death of a man who helped to bring you into the world."

"If only women could rule the world, dear Contessa," Felice was near tears herself, by that point and she hugged Vannozza to her. "And I'm sorry, I did not mean to agitate you; yes, if you insist on not seeing him, my Lady, then I understand, but please give it a little more thought?"

"For I may never see him again—yes, I realize that," Vannozza sadly admitted, "I will think on it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so by the time that Vannozza was properly dressed she had changed her mind; Felice summoned Cardinal Sforza and Captain Corella.

"My Lady, I am glad to see you on the path to recovery," Ascanio said when he saw her.

"Cardinal...Captain...I would like to see him, but I need you both to be honest with me—would my doing so be a benefit to him? If not I understand and will leave here straightaway with Madonna Felice."

The two men looked at each and nodded; Micheletto spoke. "It would be a definite benefit, my Lady, for him to see someone who loves him."

"Oh, but Micheletto, my one comfort is that someone has already been here; nothing other than love could be responsible for your presence at his side all of these years and for the protection you've always provided us, the rest of his family—which you are a part of; I thank from the bottom of my heart for that."

"You never need to thank me for that, my Lady."

"But I do...Micheletto."

"How will you explain yourself, my Lady?" Ascanio asked then.

"I am gaunt from worry over his well-being—that is the truth; I was assisted safely into the Vatican and I will be assisted safely away—that is the truth; if he requires specifics, I will easily credit this beauteous soul here," Vannozza turned to Felice and caressed her cheek lovingly, "for there is a history behind her kindness..." she turned back to the two men, " and that is the truth, as well; I need never mention anything of Cardinal della Rovere's hand in this—yes?"

Ascanio smiled and nodded at her.

"Now, I need to know what is going on—is he bed-ridden? Is he in pain? Will I be able to put my arms about him?"

Micheletto explained his physical condition to her. "His appearance will be shocking, but is nothing compared to what it was just two weeks ago, but do prepare yourself."

"Alright—what is going on beyond these walls and in his world?"

Ascanio explained the state of affairs between the Vatican and the ambassadors who were brokering the conditions of the Papal Conclave. "As it stands now Cesare is the only one left to submit to their orders—we were just about to answer them, for he has conditions of his own."

"Which are?"

"He will quit the Vatican for Civita Castellana and take not only his artillery and baggage, but also four hundred souls from the infantry of the Sacred College; and that he shall not be molested en route away; if his demands are not met he will blow up any and all who try to take him."

"And he would do it, would he not? His threat is not an empty one?"

"No my Lady, his threats have never been empty ones," Ascanio smiled broadly at her, "and that is the truth."

"Alright, then; I shall not keep him long, Cardinal, I understand that the ambassadors are waiting on him; thank you for this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare wondered if he was having another fever dream; but he was better and not hot with fever. "Mother? Mother?"

And so it was at least an hour before Cesare would let his mother go; they grieved together; she ministered to him; she told him only one lie.

"Have you heard from Lucrezia?"

"She may have written to me by now, Cesare, of what she knows, but I know not, as yet, for I made away the night before your father died, upon Cardinal Sforza's warning to me..."

"And went where?"

"Away with Theo, who was visiting me—and a good thing, for my inns were vandalized in the riots."

"Extend my eternal gratitude to him, mother, for keeping you safe; and to Madonna Felice, for her help with making our reunion a reality."

"I will, my love. And Lucrezia will be greatly relieved when I am able to get word to her and tell her that I saw you with my own eyes."

"Yes," Cesare smiled warmly at his mother, "yes, you tell her that. I will recover from this. Mother, and be well again. And now you can stop worrying and regain your vigor, as well."

"I will, my love. I'm sure that I must go; I understand that you will depart for Civita Castellana as soon as you make your demands known to the ambassadors."

"Yes, and they will be met. I have no problem with being away for the Conclave, no problem at all; nothing here feels as it used to now and everything is a reminder of what I have lost and how I lost him; and now that I've seen you I have a happier memory to carry with me—I cannot tell you what seeing you has done for my heart and my psyche, mother; my very worst night was last night. You know that I believe in no God, but if there was one, he surely sent me you on this day."

"Oh...my love; my beloved, precious, first-born..." Vannozza tried to hold back her tears, unsuccessfully.

"No more tears, mother, for either of us, this is a happier day than I thought I would ever have again. I will come back to Rome soon; well and triumphant. Piccolomini will take his place upon the Papal Throne and I will carry on, yes?"

"Yes, my love."

They gave each other their final hugs and kisses of goodbye and then Vannozza left him.

Micheletto escorted her and Madonna Felice out of the Vatican and to Felice's escort; he watched them exit the gates of the city and then reported back to Cesare.

"Alright; send them my demands," Cesare ordered his friend, feeling much rejuvenated from the visit with his mother. "I am ready to leave this place."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the surprise of no one, all of Cesare's demands were met; it was agreed that Fabrizio Colonna would escort him away from Vatican City the next day. Promptly the next morning at sunrise Cesare was carried out on a bed covered with a scarlet canopy, supported by twelve halberdiers; he was weak but still able to use his sword, if needed, and he had it beside him, unsheathed and at the ready; his beloved Luis, fitted in Cesare's favorite black velvet and embroidered with his arms, walked beside the bed, led by a page, so that Caesar could mount him easily in case of surprise attack: before him and behind, both right and left, marched his army, their arms in rest, but without beating of drums or blowing of trumpets, which gave a somber, funereal air to the whole procession. At the city gate he met Fabrizio Colonna, waiting with his own well-appointed and considerable army.

Something shifted in Cesare's mind suddenly and as he looked at Fabrizio he thought that he was headed for a sure and blatant ambush; because he had broken his own word so many times in such situations he was sure that Fabrizio's true intent was to avenge the death of his brother, Prospero, and that he may have also been working in concert with Fabio Orsini, who had made it known to everyone that he desired to avenge the death of his father, Paolo. Cesare raised his sword.

"Put your sword away, Excellency, I come as a friend," Colonna said upon approach of Cesare's canopied bed.

"Even if that is so, my Lord Colonna, I must show them that I am not as weak as I look."

"I don't believe that any sane man would underestimate you, Excellency, not even at this time; the show of force from the other families certainly bears witness to the fact that they still fear you."

"And to what do I owe the honor of your good favor, my Lord Colonna?"

"Ah...you mean Prospero..."

Cesare gave him a nod.

"Well, let us just say that...brothers born are...often disappointing? Yes?"

"You were not close, then?"

"Do you know any Roman brothers that are, my Lord? Especially where the promise of power pits them against each other in the crib and ends with one of their names etched upon the plaque of their crypt?"

Cesare gave a snort of acknowledgment.

"No, Excellency, we were not close; had he not met his end at your hand, he would certainly have met it at my own. So...I thank you. Shall we be on our way?"

"Yes. Thank you, Lord Colonna."

Colonna saluted the Duke, and rejoined his men, and then signaled the procession onward and away.

Soon thereafter they parted ways, as Colonna headed his army towards Albano, while Caesar and his army, at last, took the road to Civita Castellana.


	81. Old Torments And New

And so Cesare, Fabrizio Colonna and Fabio Orsini stayed away from Rome during the entire time the Conclave lasted; each promised to take no actions against Her or any other of the Ecclesiastical States.

Cesare finished recuperating from his illness in the very richly appointed Castel Paterno, where he sent careful correspondences to his mother and his brother Gioffre; he did not write to Lucrezia, choosing instead the safer method of letting his mother relay word of him to his sister. He also instructed his mother to stay with Theo while her inns were being repaired, which was estimated to take at least two more months; that suited him fine, for he wanted her safely out of Rome until Piccolomini was firmly established on his throne. He received troubling news from Gioffre, however, and dispatched Micheletto to Squillace and Naples to investigate.

While he waited for his Captain's report Cesare received the Spanish and French ambassadors, each seeking the support of the twelve votes he owned in the Sacred College, and therefore, election of a pope from their nation; Cesare was gracious, charming and painstakingly attentive to them both; he refused nothing—nor either promised them a single thing; even with that each man left feeling that he had experienced Cesare's most genuine good will, and that his candidate actually possessed a chance to win the seat.

In the meantime, Vannozza did receive her daughter's lately forwarded letter and wrote to her immediately with the good news of her visit to Cesare; the gracious hospitality of Madonna Felice della Rovere; news of her own current whereabouts; and a long list of questions about her daughter's well-being and the certain birth of her latest grandchild.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Micheletto, on his way to Squillace, made a stealthy side trip to handle some personal business of his own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a hot September night; two angry men squared off against each other under the dim light of a crescent moon.

"I'm surprised that you came."

" _I'm_ surprised that I came."

Both men smirked grudgingly at each other, each regarding the other with great caution.

"Fitting that you should summon me here."

"Italy is full of death, is it not?"

"Oh, yes...it is—and the one thing that never changes where Rome is concerned."

"The only constants about Rome—death and change."

"So, Rome is changing—does that mean something positive for me, at last?"

"How could it? I hear that your life here is quite happy and well-ordered; a thriving business; a handsome wife; two children and another on the way—what more could you possibly want?"

The other man sneered as he took a slow step nearer to the gruff, menacing man before him. "You dare to ask me that? As if you don't know..." he growled at him as he rushed the man, whipped him around and brought him into a strong choke hold; he said nothing more as he bent the man's head back through the rough yank of a handful of the man's read hair and kissed him savagely.

Micheletto allowed only a moment to lose himself in the ecstasy of the familiar lips of his first love, then broke away abruptly as he pulled himself back together.

"Come back to me, Micheletto—it's all over, now; the Pope is dead, and so will you be if you remain in the employ of his doomed son—what gain can possibly be gotten now?"

"I cannot abandon him, Agostino."

"You fool..." Agostino's outrage was immediate and unforgiving. "You love him—it's the only possible reason that you would continue with what is now nothing more than a ridiculous suicide mission," he grunted his exasperation at him; he turned away and struck his sword mightily against the gravestone of Micheletto's father. "Argh! I curse the day this man set you upon your path and away from me!"

Micheletto went to his love and put a gentle hand to his shoulder. "Enough of that, Agostino; no one loved that man as much as I did—or hated him more; if you must lay blame at anyone's feet for the course of my life, then look no further than this living man before you," he said softly.

"You could have your own life back, Micheletto, here in Forli—"

"Doing what, Agostino? Your wife must be a handsome woman, indeed—three children—easy on the eye and your loins, as well, hmm?"

"She is a good woman, Micheletto; she understands me..."

"Does she, now? Does she understand where you are at this moment? Does she understand what you are proposing to me?"

"What I am proposing to you is life, Micheletto, and _a_ life...of your own, at last, in the bargain, as well."

"A life as your lover on the side, is that it? Am I to take a wife and live a lie, as well? Or is it really a lie, at all? And what does it truly matter? I cannot do it...not even for the sake of children could I do it."

"You've done it to women before—"

"Yes, I have—and all of them...I killed with these..." Micheletto slowly held up his bare hands.

Agostino recoiled from him.

"Don't look at me like that, you know more than anyone what I am—what I have always been. So, do you really want me to 'come home', hmm? Watching you live your life with a woman, that you obviously love very dearly...very...easily...hmm? While I sit by in torment and do what?"

"Well...I hazard that you've had more than enough practice at that already, sitting by in torment—wouldn't be anything new for you..." Agostino sniffed his disgust at him.

Micheletto stood stock still, and willed every nerve in his body to remain so as he leveled his steely glare at Agostino; after a long intense moment he was able to find his voice. "I love you enough to forgive you for that, Agostino. This is not what I asked you here for."

Agostino heard the words but all he could see behind his beloved's eyes was sure rage—murderous rage.

"You misunderstand, my love—never you, surely you know this? I wish it could have been different for us..."

"It still can be, Micheletto! I love you! I have never stopped loving you! I'm sorry for what I said—"

"Do not apologize, Agostino—not for your old life or your new. I am happy for you; I—"

"I know what you are, alright—you love him..." Agostino repeated his bitter accusation.

"I do. And he knows it. And he loves me, Agostino, not in a way that you would ever understand; but I understand it; _he_ understands _me_. I cannot—I will not—abandon him. Not as long as I draw breath. And you love Violetta, you can admit it to me. We are men who have the capacity in our hearts to love many, yes? That is a blessed thing."

"I would like to be happy for you, Micheletto, but I see no happiness for you, as much as I want to."

"Rome _is_ changing; and I will very well never see you or this place again before I die; I will be happy, Agostino, and will die at peace, as long as I know that you are here, and ask you only—"

"You don't have to and you know it—she has been as my own mother, as well, my love. Of course I will look after Isabella."

Micheletto nodded his relief and his thanks at Agostino.

"So...this is goodbye, then."

"This is goodbye."

"As solemn as ever, you are..." Agostino held out a hand to Micheletto. "A final kiss then, that must hold me for the rest of my days..."

Micheletto took Agostino's hand and drew him into his passionate, hungry embrace; his kiss was as hungry, but also sweet; full of so much love, joyous and overwhelming, yet ruined by the honest and heartbreaking spectre of his bleak future; he released Agostino abruptly, for to linger in the ecstasy of him was a torture he would not inflict upon himself a moment longer; without another word he quickly mounted his horse and rode off into the night headed for Squillace.


	82. Beautiful Liars

After Cesare had departed to Civita Castellana Vannozza remained with Madonna Felice della Rovere for another two weeks. Her home was filled, almost every night, with visiting politicians, artists and philosophers, and all of them were taken up with suspense over the goings-on at the Vatican. When conversations turned to other matters they were as lively and free-flowing as the wine from her father's vineyards; blessedly, the evenings remained ever-free from debauchery or scandal—with the exception of one individual.

Vannozza had noticed young _Maestro_ Michelangelo's eyes upon her, more than once, filled with curiosity and misplaced interest in her. She ignored him, politely, and made sure to stay away from him, chiding herself silently, convinced that his interest was only a lovely figment of her imagination. She allowed herself to fantasize about him, but those fantasies always led to real memories of the one that had ignited her truest, deepest passions; she found that she had to cease that indulgence, for it only made her sad again. She wanted desperately to be done with her sadness.

She continued to regain her strength and had set about to the business of touring the damage at her inns with Theo. By the end of her first week with the Madonna, she had sent her staff away to their own lives and given them all as generous a severance as she was able to, hoping that any of them, if not all, would return to her employ when her businesses were restored. One young man, Lorenzo Serna, the cook's apprentice at her palazzo, volunteered to stay and supervise her properties while she away in the country with Theo.

It was on the final day that she had spent there, closing down her palazzo and collecting the things she would need to take with her on her journey away, that the young man had approached her.

"My Lady, please accept my heartfelt condolences for the loss of His Holiness."

"Thank you, Signore Serna. I'm sorry that your severance wasn't more, but I had to pay everyone and have something left for these renovations..."

"I understand, my Lady, what you paid me is appreciated, truly."

Vannozza gave a nod at him and prepared to take her leave.

"Contessa?"

Vannozza turned back to him with a curious smile. "Yes?"

"I have family here; the money you've provided me with will more than pay for my keep with them while the renovations are being done—who will stay to supervise them?"

"I shall have to make trips back in order to do so; I cannot pay an administrator, as you well know..."

"Contessa...you took me in off of the streets of Rome—a common thief just released from prison—when no one else would; you trusted me; gave me a job—I am indebted to you. I would gladly remain here, without further pay, to see to the day-to-day renovations—at both of your inns; I will guard this palazzo—from without, of course—and make sure that it remains undisturbed, and be your representative to the podesta should there be any trouble; I would report to you twice a month and assist you on your visits back..."

"Signore Serna, that is most-generous of you, but I could not ask—"

"You gave me a life, Contessa dei Cattanei...I would see yours returned to you. I will not take no for an answer," he told her through a firm smile. "I can assure you that when your inns are restored and it is safe to return, the rest of your staff will be happy to follow my lead and return to you, as well."

"I would like to believe that, Signore, but they will surely have other employment by then...in fact, I hope that they will, and soon..."

"Your entire staff more than appreciated you as an employer—they would return to you, Contessa, this I know."

"Oh...Signore Serna—I could hug you!" Vannozza smiled back at him as a single tear sparkled like a diamond upon her cheek.

"I would like that, my Lady, but would never dare to entertain such a thing, for I desire...your trust," he said with an impish gleam in his eye.

Vannozza cast a sidelong glance and a suspicious smile at him. "I knew that you were too good to be true—I'm old enough to be your mother, young man."

"I'm sorry, my Lady, I have overstepped the boundaries of propriety; you have been a fair and gracious employer, but..."

"But what?"

"You are a beautiful woman..." Lorenzo looked down at the floor in genuine embarrassment. "Forgive a young man his folly, please," he said when he looked back up at her, "I truly have your best interest at heart, I promise you that, my Lady."

"Will I live to regret you, Signore Serna?"

"No, my Lady, you will not regret me."

"Alright, that's settled then, I shall try you out. And thank you. I'll be back this time next month, Signore Serna, if there is no trouble here to prevent me from doing so."

"Yes, my Lady, thank you." Lorenzo gave a little bow at her which Vannozza found amusing for some reason but held herself in check as she left him, and continued to do so, for the young man followed behind to see her off.

_Well, he's certainly not after my money, I have none. Does he think that I am desperate, then? Yes, that's it: he thinks that I am easy and desperate. And still I am amused—a sure sign that I am old..._ Vannozza chuckled at herself out loud after she was helped up and into the private confines of her carriage, ever amazed that there were still things under the sun that could amaze her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she returned to Madonna Felice's palazzo the place was curiously empty, save for the servants scurrying about preparing for a banquet and festivities to be held for yet another visiting dignitary, whose name and affiliation Vannozza could not remember. She had been much taken up with settling her own affairs and keeping abreast of any news regarding the Papal Conclave, which would soon be going into its third week. Lost in her own thoughts she made her way to her apartment, ticking off the few things that remained to be done before she and Theo left Rome for his farm in the countryside.

"Contessa? Did you not hear my greeting?"

Vannozza stopped and turned to face the one approaching her. " _Maestro_...good evening."

"Good evening. I see that your husband has not returned from his own endeavors..." said the handsome young man as he reached her and then stopped.

"Yes, we have both had much to do before our departaure from our gracious hostess."

"She is a marvel, is she not? And so kind; she has made my time here in Rome happier than I thought was possible."

Vannozza gave him a genuine and unabashed smile. "That she is, and I'm happy for you that you have been blessed to have her as your patroness."

The man smiled his agreement at her. "Are you going now to prepare for the banquet?"

Vannozza looked to a window at the end of the corridor and noted the fading light of the sun. "Yes...I suppose that I am."

"May I escort you to your rooms?"

"You would do me a great honor, _Maestro_."

"Call me Michelangelo, please?"

"Michelangelo."

They walked the long corridor to the stairs ascending to the second floor.

"I suppose that you miss Florence greatly, Michelangelo?"

"I do, but the Masters have made me welcomed here, especially Leonardo da Vinci and his notorious little _Salai_ ; and of course, Madonna Felice; I do not know what I would have done without them, they have all embraced me as if I am their own brother."

"You have had trouble here, Michelangelo?"

"Certainly you are part of the circle of those who are aware of the identity of my true patron, Contessa."

"I have been the subject of enough rumors—horrible rumors, _Maestro_ —that I do not like to traffic in them, myself; I've had enough to keep me busy with the concerns of my own family to even be interested in such talk."

"Yes, I can understand that. I've not had a chance to speak personally with you since you've been here—I offer you my deepest sympathies regarding the passing of Pope Alexander Sixtus."

"Thank you, Michelangelo, you have my great appreciation."

They were at the top of the stairs then.

"When do you depart Rome, Contessa, if I may ask?"

"At the end of this week, actually, why?"

"I have seen you about at the various functions here; I have been watching you..."

"I'm aware of that."

There was a gleam in Michelangelo's eyes at her, as bright as the smile on his face. "You've moved about, here, with the feline grace of a lioness; I have been captivated by you. You came here bereft, but not vanquished; filled with an inner light that must be captured upon a canvas...and in magnificent marble—I already know, Contessa, the piece of marble that I would use to capture your beauty...your grace; a piece more special than that which I usually work with from the quarries of Carrara..."

"You flatter me, _Maestro_ , greatly...but I cannot afford such a commission at this time, I must be honest..."

They were at the door of her apartment, speaking in hushed, hurried tones. "I envision a bust...and a painting...my presents to you; but your full sculpture—that would be a part of my personal collection—you would join the Madonna, and my own mother, and complete the trio of the most Heavenly women I know upon this Earth."

Vannozza was overwhelmed. "I...I don't know what to say..."

Michelangelo moved seductively closer to her, pinning her against the door. "Say yes, Contessa; let me sketch you before you go..."

"Young man!"

"You are a beautiful woman..." he took one of her hands and kissed the back of it sweetly.

"It was my understanding about you that you...prefer...men... _Maestro_."

"Ah, but I thought you said that you did not traffic in rumors, Contessa," he smiled devilishly at her.

"I do not, but I thought that was more of a fact...in certain circles..."

"Well, from the horse's mouth, my Lady—I prefer men... _and_ women."

"So, you are a greedy one, then."

"I am a man of my time—as you are a woman of yours."

"I'm old enough to be your mother! Is something in the air tonight?" Her light chuckle at him was a nervous one. "Let me go..."

"Something in the air? Your time away from your beloved Theo today has elicited other amorous attentions than my own? Who is he? I will run him through with my sword—I am quite proficient with a blade, contrary to popular belief..."

"You will move away from me before someone comes along and sees us..." she said as she pushed him away. "And yes, as a matter of fact, I did have a strange adventure today; another young fool, offering me promises of loyal service and a most untoward affection. Do I look desperate, _Maestro_? Like some old woman ripe for the taking? It is certainly not because I have any money that men so young would suddenly be foolish enough to try me."

"Again I say, you are a beautiful woman; you look far from desperate, Contessa, and there is nothing even remotely old about you. I would hazard that the service offered you today was genuine, and that those promises stemmed from a pure love; I offered my pure love to someone, once...it was severely abused." Michelangelo drew away from her finally, with a sad look upon his face.

Vannozza's heart broke for him at that moment, for della Rovere had been a monster to the boy and everyone knew it. "Is that what this is, then? You are making this request of me and offering me your pure love? For I would never abuse that, Michelangelo..." she said softly as she put a tender hand to his cheek.

Michelangelo took her hand away from his cheek and took her up into his strong, definite embrace. "Don't abuse your young man from earlier today, is what I am saying. As for myself, Contessa..." Michelangelo opened the door to her room and held it for her, "you may abuse me any way that you wish."

"You don't mean that—you can't...you can't possibly..."

"I do."

" _Maestro_...we already share your true patron in common between us—I do not wish to share you further with him."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with him, _Vannozza_...nothing at all..." he whispered at her as his lips came in to possess hers.

"This is a scandal!" Vannozza erupted at him when her lips were free of his.

Michelangelo guided her into her room, closed the door and locked it behind them. "Your desire is a scandal—I felt it in your kiss, do not deny it..."

"And who wouldn't feel it? You are young and handsome...your talent is intoxicating...your attention... is intoxicating...this is wrong, Michelangelo...my husband will be back any moment—the whole house..."

"Your truest husband has left this world, Contessa; I see how Theo looks at you, but your eyes for him are not the same."

"He is a good man..."

"He is your _friend_...chosen by the Pope for appearances only; to legitimize you; to offer you safe haven, as he is prepared to do now by taking you away from Rome—tell me that I am wrong."

"And what are you, _young_...man? What is the point to this?"

"Maybe there is no point to this; maybe there does not even need to be a point to this—other than our pleasure—we have both had so much pain—will you allow me, Vannozza? Please..." Michelangelo stroked her neck softly with the back of his hand, then lavished a sweet, lingering kiss upon it, "there is no one to be wronged, here...say yes..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia read the missive in her hand for a third time, relieved and ecstatic to know that both her mother and Cesare were safe; and though the letter was brief and lacking the details she so desperately craved it contained a loving request from her mother, asking if she could come to Ferrara and visit, either to help usher her new grandchild into the world, or welcome the baby had that event already occurred.

"Lucrezia? Are you alright?" It was Alfonso that had come up behind her at her desk. "Is the news not good?"

"It is good, my Lord; she was away already when my letter arrived, hence her late response to me, but...she wishes to come here for the child," Lucrezia said as she sat holding on to the letter in her lap, her voice sounding as far away as the look in her eyes. "I must tell her that to do so...would only be to visit our Beloved's crypt."

Alfonso dared to put a gentle hand to one of her shoulders. "I am so sorry, Lucrezia, that our news for her is not as happy."

As in Rome, and the whole world, Ferrara waited to see who would ascend the Papal Throne next; while they waited the brothers d'Este remained ever at odds with one another; for some reason, Ferrante had been released from his prison and allowed to come home, and the tensions between the three brothers made the very air in the castle heavy and suffocating from the heat of their hatred for one another.

Even so, Lucrezia had kept primarily to the castle, for her predicament now that the Pope was dead was very much the talk of the town and she had not the energy to endure pleasant smiles that only barely masked curiosity and negative judgments. Ercole had been more than understanding and did not insist that she accompany him to hear cases at Town Hall even though she was a master at it and was sorely missed. Alfonso also afforded her his gentle considerations and did not trouble her with his questions, passions, or jealousies, as she contented herself mostly with the company of Giovanni, Princess, the other children at court, and Cardinal Bembo, whom she had commissioned to teach all who were old enough the joy of learning the lute.

In her hours alone, after Giovanni had been put to bed, after the evening meal was done and her other duties as Lady of Castello Estense had come to an end, she worried; that Alfonso would grow tired of waiting out her affections, and see her as the political liability she had actually become now that her father was dead and Cesare's future was looking more than bleak. She worried about Rodrigo, for Naples was still hotly contested between France, who ruled her, and Spain, who would not give up its quest to wrest French rule away from her. She worried about her mother, who did impart in her brief letter that her inns had been targeted, damaged, and were facing long months of restoration; she did not ask for them but Lucrezia knew that her mother needed more funds to aid in that endeavor and was trying to figure out how to help her do so, along with everything else.

And of course she worried about Cesare. What was he feeling? Did he feel defeated? Did he feel hopeful? Did he feel confident, at all, that he could go on? His was not the only call for the unification of Italy, but it was less than appreciated by his enemies because he, Borgia, endeavored to attain it. She worried that della Rovere would triumph and become Pope—if that happened...Lucrezia often became physically ill at that thought and had to work hard to keep it out of her mind. And how was he, really? Was he recovered? How had he taken the death of their father? Would any of them ever recover from that?

Her father. Who had infuriated her on more occasions than she could ever tally. Whom she had hurt so deeply at the death of his beloved Juan. Who had endeavored to move Heaven and Earth for her, and had often fallen so short. Who had given her all that he possibly could and also denied her as much. Who had apologized and sought her forgiveness, both of them coming to an understanding, recognizing that they were equals and had so much in common with each other.

Her father. Who had loved her. Was gone. Never to be seen again.

It did not feel real to her, at all; did not seem possible. His passing had only been...words...to her—where was the proof? Where was his body, laid out in state, to mourn? She had been told that there was a crypt at the Vatican, but she could not go and see it; could not pay her last respects; could not say goodbye.

_But you said goodbye...when you left him in Rome after the respite he granted you upon your escape from Alfonso; you said goodbye...you were never to be allowed another opportunity...not even for the final one. And he is gone—look at your family: fragmented; uneasy; jeopardized. Yes, he is gone._

Those were the thoughts that had taken over her private moments, had tormented her, nightly and into the wee hours of every morning since her father had died.

"Lucrezia? Did you hear me?" Alfonso was on bended knee, kneeling behind her.

"What? I'm sorry my Lord, my thoughts were elsewhere—what did you say?"

"I said, I think a that visit to the country might help to restore your spirit, hmm? I would like to host your mother here, but I am much taken up with...with..."

"Politics, you can say it, my Lord; I know that my position here in Ferrara is a precarious one."

"No...no...that's not how I mean it, at all..."

"Nevertheless it is the truth. It would be a lovely way to put me out of sight while you and the Duke figure out, truly, how to dispense with me, my Lord, thank you for your kind consideration."

"No, Lucrezia, please do not say such a thing..."

"I shall respond to my mother now and arrange it immediately; I should be on my way by week's end. With any luck I'll be ambushed and murdered and you will be able to go on happily with your life."

Alfonso knew there was no possible way to reason with her when she was in such a mood, which had become her usual one when they said more than two words to each other, and even though he continued to try and show her his genuine kindness. A trip to the quiet country to see her mother would do her well, at least he hoped that it would. He prayed that it would.

"No such thing will happen, wife, nor is it anything that I desire—I will send you with a thousand horse—to deliver you and bring you safely back to me. Lucrezia?"

Lucrezia seemed to come back to herself and then turned away from her desk to look into her husband's eyes.

"So handsome, you are, with your face clean—you are a man's man Alfonso, why did you ever think that you needed an old man's beard to be imposing?"

Alfonso smiled his thanks for her compliment at him.

"So handsome...so beautiful...such a beautiful liar," she said with a sweet smile.

A confused frown began to grow upon his face. "What?"

"You may send me with a thousand or ten; but let me see my mother first and do me on my way back, hmm? I trust you with Giovanni, I have that much, at least. Now go on...I must make the arrangements." Lucrezia gave a kiss to the cheek of her husband's horror-stricken face and then turned away from him to write her letter.


	83. The Question Of Freedom

"Something is wrong..."

"What is it, my love? What does she say?"

"Not much...not much of anything at all—except that she is coming here..."

"But I thought you were to go—"

"You know that was the request that I made, yet her only answer is this..." Vannozza thrust the brief note at Theo, almost angrily. "This is not like her; she has not asked if she could come, Theo, and I take from this missive that she is on the way...as much as I want to see her, I apologize for her disrespect of you..."

"This is our beloved Lucrezia, Vannozza, she is welcome here, all of your children are, no offense is taken..." Theo assured her with a soothing voice and a kind smile.

Vannozza came a bit out of her confusion and looked gratefully into Theo's eyes, ever amazed that she had such a wonderful friend in her life, especially after all that they had both been through; her thoughts went to Juan, and that abominable time that he had beaten Theo so mercilessly because of his secret fear that Theo was his father and not Rodrigo...oh, how her son had shamed and disappointed her that day, and had broken her heart one time too many.

"Vannozza?"

"I do love you so, Theo..." she put her palm to his cheek. "You have always been so good to me, in spite of everything."

"And I, you, Vannozza...because of everything. Now...tell me your trouble?"

"It's just that...there is no mention of the child—would she make such a journey with a newborn? I would think not; would she leave the child behind? Definitely not. Has she not yet delivered? She has traveled late in pregnancy before, but not this late. She's made no mention of Giovanni, or her husband—is she coming to me alone? Why did she not wait for the response of a proper invitation? Coming home to me in Rome I could understand such a headstrong action, but to come here in such a manner? Something has happened, Theo...something that is not good..."

"We don't know that, yet, and we should not even imagine such a thing; try and calm yourself, Vannozza, we shall have the answers soon, hmm? Yes?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four days later Lucrezia found herself traveling once again through Lombardy, headed Northeast of Mantua toward Theo Canale's farm in the fertile Camonica Valley. When she alighted from her carriage she was greeted by her mother's very worried face—and arms opened wide to receive her.

"Oh, my love...my darling, sweet girl!"

"Mother..."

"Welcome, my Lady."

"Theo—thank you and please forgive my forwardness—"

"Dear girl, do not trouble yourself another moment, please," Theo came in for a hug when Vannozza finally released her. "And let me say now how my heart breaks for you at this time over the loss of your father, Lucrezia."

"Oh, Theo..." But Lucrezia could get out no other words to thank him as she allowed the comfort of his embrace.

"Lucrezia, where is Giovanni? Where is your newborn?"

Just then the nursemaid was helped out of the carriage by a footman.

" _Nonna! Nonna!_ " It was Giovanni, struggling then to be set free from his maid's arms and down to the ground.

Vannozza rushed to him and took him over, smothering him with her kisses to his cheeks. "Oh, my precious boy!" She looked her questioning, worried face back at her daughter.

Just then Princess came bounding excitedly out of the carriage, just barely quelling her anxiety over the woman holding her charge hostage.

"And who is this beauty?" Vannozza asked her grandson with a smile.

"Princess!" Giovanni told her with a voice full of glee.

"Stay, Princess, good girl—this is _Nonna..._ " Lucrezia knelt down before the dog and gave a loving scratch to the scruff of her neck, "and she loves Giovanni just as much as you do."

"She is a beauty, Lucrezia."

"Yes," Lucrezia smiled as she rose up to face her mother and gave another kiss to her cheek, "she has been our faithful protector; I promised her that I would not abandon her to loneliness again should I ever leave Castello Estense, and so here she is."

"And why _have_ you left Castello Estense, Lucrezia? What has hap—"

The smile faded from Lucrezia's face. "Yes, mother—we have much to discuss."

"Take them in, Vannozza, while I see to the guard and instruct them where to set up camp, yes?"

"Yes, Theo, thank you—come, my love..." Vannozza led her daughter away.

The ride to Val Camonica had been just under two hours longer than the one to Mantua; even though Giovanni had been anxious to stretch his little legs he was more tired than he wanted to give in to, which was his usual attitude about sleep; after a light meal and a vigorous romp with Princess on the second floor loggia where they had dined _al fresco_ over looking Theo's lemon grove, the boy reluctantly gave in to his weariness and became quite cantankerous about it. Too exhausted to throw the stick that he and the dog had been playing fetch with, he sat, nodding off against Princess, who had long given up the game and had settled herself behind the boy, acting as his pillow, easily ignoring his half-hearted pleas to continue playing.

Vannozza, sitting in her seat, empathized with the boy, anxious to have her daughter's full attention and about to become cantankerous in her own right.

"Giovanni, you need a nap...come, you must get up now before you fall over and hit your head upon the stone..." Lucrezia said gently as she went to him.

"No...I'm not sleepy..." he complained as he valiantly tried to hold up his head and come back to attention.

"Thank you, Princess, I shall relieve you now..." she said to the dog as she scooped her son up to carry him off for his nap.

"No! I'm not sleepy, mama..." he began to cry and fuss in her arms.

"Enough of this..." Vannozza rose up from her own seat and took her grandson over from Lucrezia. "I love you, precious one, but it is time for your nap and I've a bed all ready for your tired little bones..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It was a girl..." Vannozza's heart was as heavy as the flow of her tears. "Oh, Lucrezia, my love, I am so very sorry...come here..."

Sitting together on the divan in the anteroom of Lucrezia's suite, she went into her mother's outstretched arms and rested her head upon her mother's breast.

"I have missed you so, mother."

"And I, you, my precious baby girl. How are you, really?"

"So very tired of tears, mother, that's how I am," Lucrezia replied as she wiped some angrily away from her own cheek.

"Has your husband not been a comfort to you? And you to your husband? Has this horrible thing driven you apart? Tell me, honestly."

"Oh, mother; we had been driven apart, long before this day. But yes, remarkably, he has been a comfort to me...of late."

"Lucrezia, what has your trouble been? I must know; I thought that you were happy, at last...prayed that your life had come not only to a point of stability, but of peace...yet I see that my wishes and prayers are still unanswered."

"I am only a married woman, mother, going through the things that married women go through, there is nothing that I can tell you that you've never heard a thousand times before," Lucrezia lied; there was too much ground to cover and she simply had not the energy, or the heart, for the telling of her history with Alfonso up to that point, and so much more that she could never share.

"It's as bad as all of that, then."

"No, mother, not as bad now as it could be...or has been."

They shared a long moment of silence.

"What...did you name her? May I ask for the answer to that, my love?" Vannozza asked softly.

"We had not the heart to name her, mother, anything other than Our Beloved, which is what the inscription reads upon the plaque of her tomb." Vannozza said not another word as Lucrezia felt her mother's delicate teardrops raining down upon the top of her head. "And so we must move from one sad topic to another, my dear heart—how was father when you saw him last? Dying, I understand, but did he know that you were there, at least? Did he have his final comfort in his own Beloved?"

"Oh...Lucrezia..." Vannozza's gasped for air as her throat choked up, unwilling to allow her the ability to express her own horrid truths; alarmed, her daughter rose up from her.

"Mother? Mother?" It was Lucrezia's turn to give refuge in the embrace of strong, loving arms as she gathered her mother to her own breast.

The afternoon turned to evening as mother and daughter shared what heartbreaks that they could manage and truths they dared to give voice to, which were not many; the moon was near to ending her journey through the night sky and still the two women were sequestered, endeavoring the impossible task of trying to catch each other up.

Vannozza imparted everything about Rodrigo's last hours that she could, with the exception of the account of her imprisonment, for to tell Lucrezia would have been to tell Cesare and she had recent word from her son that he was coming to see her, long before her daughter's impromptu arrival; and whether their forthcoming reunion had been duly coincidental, planned, or never to occur again, Vannozza knew that Lucrezia would surely have managed a way to impart such vile news to her brother.

"Well," Lucrezia began, her voice full of hurt and disgust, "Alfonso and Ercole certainly did well to shield me from such reports; easy to do, as I have kept myself to my rooms and out of public view since father's death. But, God in Heaven..."

"And how have you been faring, Lucrezia, with the old Duke?"

"Yes...well, he wants me, even if Alfonso does not. But then, I should take that back—with the prospect of my brother's downfall I have become desirable again, in my husband's eyes."

The bitterness in her daughter's voice was another heartbreak for Vannozza. "And so yet another husband, threatened by the close bond you share with your brother..."

_Oh, mother, you've no idea..._ "No mother, threatened by our most un-Italian Borgia blood and ambition."

"Well, then your marriage is doomed, my love, for Cesare owns the votes necessary to have your father's successor installed—Piccolomini will be the next pontiff, and your brother will carry on," Vannozza assured her.

"Yes, well, we shall see."

"No...no 'we shall see', you may consider it done. And you will carry on, as well; you have the Duke's favor and at this point that is more important than your husband's, anyway. I know that it is too soon, daughter, but take advantage of your husband's good will, however temporary you feel it to be—lay with him, Lucrezia; secure your future and provide the old Duke an heir—"

"I do understand your concern, mother; your advice is right and pragmatic, but..."

"But what?"

"When I am able to tolerate the touch of my husband in such a manner...then I will force myself to do so. That time is not now...nor in the foreseeable future," came Lucrezia's cryptic response.

"Lucrezia! You would impose such a death sentence upon yourself?" Vannozza was completely aghast.

"My death sentence was passed long ago, mother, and the one who passed it is gone, now...I should be free of that obligation, now, as well...free..."

"Free? What do you mean, 'free', Lucrezia? Free to live a life in disgrace and poverty? You do have Giovanni and Rodrigo to think about, you know."

"Rodrigo is lost to me; Giovanni has a future, whether I have a title or not—he will rise above all of this...he will be an acclaimed musician, I see a bright, fulfilled future for him..."

"And how bright will it be for him, living under the shadow of your disgrace, Lucrezia?"

"Men from lesser walks of life have found themselves admitted into the palaces of kings, mother, so it will be for my Giovanni."

"Oh! You hope, girl. Free..." Vannozza sniffed disgustedly as she rose up from her seat to pace angry circles about the floor.

Lucrezia shot up from her own seat. "Yes! Free! Like you!"

"I'm not free, Lucrezia! No woman is! Not truly!"

"But you are! You are a businesswoman, you need no husband...Felice della Rovere is free—free to demand your admittance to the Vatican and engineer your reunion with Cesare—I want the same!"

"Open your eyes, girl, and admit what you know to be true—we all depend on men to get through this abominable life! Fathers and husbands! We all need husbands, whether we love them or they love us; whether our marriages are true unions or alliances; from the common woman to the noble one, for without husbands we are—"

"Whores? A whore or a wife, that is all that we can aspire to be, mother? Aren't they in fact, one and the same? And what's wrong with being a whore? Men love whores better than they love wives, _especially_ our Nobles—and our Popes."

Vannozza stopped in her tracks abruptly then approached her daughter, staring her down angrily for a long, speechless moment; somehow, the slap that Lucrezia felt inflicted suddenly upon her cheek came as a surprise to her.

"You dare to speak to me, this way? YOU DARE!" her mother railed at her.

"Mother, I—I did not mean—"

"Oh, I know what you meant, girl; I was a whore...a fancy whore, even respected—but a whore, nonetheless; and then I was a wife—now—I am a lady; I _begat_ a Lady, and a Lady you shall remain," Vannozza threatened her daughter. "Freedom? You want to speak of freedom? Tell it to the fallen ladies in the convent—you knew them! The ones who had no dowries to—and fuck a husband's heart, girl—secure a _life_ ; tell it to the wives of common men, toiling all of their short years to their death; their teeth yellow, their hands gnarled—their children hungry, even as they farm the bountiful land of their overlords; tell it to the whores, plying their trade in a sea of scarlet robes, filth, and disease, and everything in between; talk of freedom with the courtesans, who end up the same, if they secure no benefactor.

"We may all be whores, in one way or another, but then, I am biased, as you surely must know, and do not hold them in such contempt as you do. Whatever one's lot in life, Lucrezia, one should aspire to be the best; one should aspire to self-preservation and more; and so if one is to be a whore...then one should endeavor to be a _great_ whore."

Lucrezia had heard her mother utter those words in jest, many times throughout her life, had even repeated them, herself once, in a moment of similar despair—she still found neither her amusement or comfort in them.

"Your father is gone, Lucrezia, yes; but you've an obligation, now, to yourself...and to your children—the ones who are here and the ones who are not here—yet."

"Mother, I'm—"

"I don't want, or need, your apologies, Lucrezia; we have both been through much—this family has been through much, I know. And while your brother might not express it the same way as I have, I know in my heart that he would agree with me as to your future—and when he gets here I shall ensure that he gives you a good talking to. Good night, Lucrezia. Try and get some rest," Vannozza concluded sternly, then left her flabbergasted daughter alone with the brief remainder of her night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Cesare arrived a week later the Papal Conclave had still not come to its conclusion.

"Your Excellency, it is my honor to receive you!"

"Theo—" Cesare took the man into a strong, manly embrace. "Thank you," he smiled as he released him, "for all that you have done for my mother."

"You don't have to thank me, son, I would do anything—for all of you." Theo's words were true and heartfelt; he loved Vannozza and had loved all of her children, as well; he appreciated that Cesare held him in dear and true esteem and that he did not bristle at his endearment of calling him 'son', for if it had been Juan...he let that thought go. Cesare, Lucrezia and Gioffre had always shown him love and their respect and he viewed himself as a richer man for having had it from them. Gioffre would be coming next with news from Squillace and he was happy for himself, as well as for Vannozza, to be able to host the family's much needed reunion. "I'm sorry about your father, Cesare."

"Thank you, again, Theo."

"Of course. And now, on to your mother and your sister..."

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia...is here?"

"She is—didn't your mother send word to you?"

"She...not since our last correspondence two weeks ago, no, she did not..." Cesare did well to mask his excitement as his beating heart quickened its pace.

"Ah, well, she probably feared that it might not reach you in time—you made good time..."

"Yes, it was cool and pleasant last night, we pushed on without stopping."

"Very good—are your men—"

"Pitching their tents as we speak, good sir," Cesare gave Theo a friendly pat upon the shoulder. "I see that the Duke sent my sister off properly," he muttered his surprise more to himself than to Theo over the impressive tent city already in place on the massive grounds that led to the farm.

"What's that, you say?"

"Nothing."

"Well, come on then, son...they're waiting for you..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cesare..."

"Mother." He rushed over to Vannozza and scooped her up into his arms.

"Oh, you are much better, thank God—you look much-restored, my love."

"I am, thanks to you, my love, and your angelic appearance at my sick bed." He released her after a kiss to both of her cheeks and went to his sister. "Lucrezia."

"Cesare."

Cesare was baffled by his sister's stilted manner, for it was the rare occasion that she was free and sanctioned to welcome him with her loving and unchecked embrace, in front of God and the world, and certainly in front of those in the room at the moment; before anyone could say another word Giovanni was upon him.

" _Tio Cesare! Tio Cesare!_ "

"And just look at you! I hazard that you can lift me up, by now, hmm?"

Giovanni giggled at his uncle as he wrapped his arms about Cesare's neck. "I missed you, _Tio Cesare_..."

"Oh, and I have missed you, little one..." Cesare looked a question at his sister, wondering then where her new babe was.

"Cesare...come sit—Giovanni, I know that it is difficult, but please release your uncle so that he may have his seat beside you at the table, yes?" Vannozza smiled at them both.

Giovanni scrambled down from his uncle as if he was the tallest tree in the forest, then took his hand and led him happily to the dining table. "Next to me, _Tio Cesare!_ "

Some time later, after Giovanni was released to the care of his nurse, the family got down to the business Cesare wanted most to discuss.

"Sister—where is your newborn?" he asked delicately of her from across the table.

"My daughter was stillborn, Cesare, gone to her peace a week before her grandfather."

"Oh, my God—Lucrezia..." he reached a hand across the table from her seeking to take one of her own, where her hands rested, calmly clasped together upon it; she did not reach out to him in return; Theo and Vannozza exchanged sad looks with one another but remained silent as Cesare slowly withdrew his hand. "I am...so sorry, sis." Lucrezia only nodded her appreciation at him and Cesare knew that he was not to say another word about it.

"You told me that you had news of Gioffre, Cesare?" Vannozza spoke up then.

That was something that Cesare did not wish to speak on, especially since his sister was there; had he known that she was to be there he never would have even mentioned to his mother that there was news that Micheletto had brought to him from Squillace. "Uh...I...that can wait, actually...Gioffre will be here soon."

"But, you said before that—"

"How are the inns progressing, mother?"

Vannozza cut him a suspicious look. "I might as well say it—I'm out of funds and renovations have ceased for the time being; I have a volunteer there—a nice young man who offered me his services free of charge to oversee things in my absence, and keep watch over the properties in general."

Cesare raised and eyebrow at her. "Free of charge?"

"He was the cook's apprentice at my palazzo; I had to let everyone go, but his severance pay was ample enough to provide his lodging with his family, he said, so he required nothing else. I shall have relieve him completely, now."

"No, mother, just tell me how much you need and you shall have it."

"We'll talk of that later, Cesare."

"I should excuse myself, so that you may all speak in private..." Theo rose to go.

"No, Theo, please stay, there is nothing to be said here that you should not be privy to, my friend, sit down, please?" Cesare motioned for him to re-take his seat. "There is simply much that none of us truly have the heart to discuss, it seems."

"How long will you stay with us? Do they need you back in Civita Castellana anytime soon?" the man asked kindly as he sat back down.

"No one truly needs me in Civita Castellana." Cesare smirked as he looked at the wine he was swirling in his goblet; he looked up at Theo. "I was hoping that you would allow me to stay here until the new Pontiff is announced—may I?"

"Of course you may, Cesare, you don't even have to ask it, you know this."

"But I do, Theo...thank you. Things will be better soon, family, as soon as Piccolomini is installed, I promise you all," Cesare said as he looked his concern over at his forlorn sister.


	84. The Heartbreak That Is You

"Lucrezia...please talk to me?"

Lucrezia remained silent.

It was near to midnight and everyone had bid each other good night after a late supper; when Cesare was sure that Giovanni was asleep and that his mother and Theo were truly no longer about, he had stolen away to Lucrezia's rooms. She had retired back to her seat after she let him in, where he stood over her, pleading at her to open up to him.

"That you are not yourself at this time is understandable, my love, but—"

"And you are yourself? Cesare?" Lucrezia asked him dryly.

"I will not be if you do not talk to me, sis."

"I was prepared, even before my daughter's birth, to make my escape, Cesare, for I have been through a living hell with Alfonso since your departure from Ferrara; I had arranged for Cardinal Bembo to get word to Lady Dorotea, who would in turn get word to you; it was all arranged, for I feared for my very life, then..."

"What did the beast do to you? You will tell me..."

"I will not; it does not matter anymore; I see now that it is a pointless endeavor to entertain further notions of you and me, which has been my truest and most secret indulgence and responsible for bringing me any respite at all, these past months...the only thing that helped me to endure...my thoughts of you, Cesare; replaying over and over in my mind the declaration you made to me when last we were in Rome together, worrying that our reunion might have produced a sure child of yours..."

"This arrangement...that you tasked Bembo with..."

"To deliver a message...two words that no one else in the world would understand, other than you—"

"You mean..."

"Yes; two words that I was even more certain that I would have to deliver to you after father died...until..."

"What, Lucrezia? Until what?" Cesare asked her desperately.

"Until this very moment, Cesare, that I did not even know was forthcoming..." Lucrezia began to cry silent tears.

"Lucrezia, you are breaking my heart..."

"I have only ever wished for your success, Cesare, you know this; and so the day has come that we both feared—you are still poised for that success—I am still doomed to endure this alliance; our own mother has instructed me to be a great...a great...whore! Self-preservation, she calls it!"

"Lucrezia, please, you know what she means; she spoke with me after you retired; she told me about the words that passed between you, explaining the unusual circumstance of discord I found hanging between you both when I arrived..."

"I could not tell her everything, Cesare, about the state of affairs between Alfonso and I, especially now, when he has finally desisted with his daily threats and most vocal wishes calling for my demise; he has actually been kind to me, more kind to me since father died than he was after the death of his own daughter..."

Cesare was still trying to find words when his sister spoke again.

"And here is the rallying cry from my mother to press on, for my sake and for that of my children; and here you are...pressing on, as well; ever on and away from me."

"Not away from you, Lucrezia, never that; have you forgotten the rest of my promise, then? To triumph on my own and deliver you to your freedom? Piccolomini was carefully chosen by father; he _will_ ascend the throne; his support of me _is_ guaranteed—you must hold on just a little bit longer, sis..."

Lucrezia shot her brother an unappreciative look.

"Your husband—has been kinder to you, you say? Is it possible..." Cesare hated to ask the question but knew that he must, "...is it possible that he has secured your heart, at last?"

"To the world it should not even be a question; he has offered me his heartfelt apologies, for his most hateful actions beginning from the wedding and those beyond; he has been considerate; his loving concern of late has been most genuine; anyone would consider it a scandal to know that I seriously entertain the notions that I do, notions of leaving him."

"If he has become the husband that you truly deserve, sis, that has finally become deserving of you—why would you leave him?"

"Alfonso likes me weak, Cesare; compromised; dependent and fragile—broken. All of the things that I was when we were betrothed; all of the things that I am now. And I hate him for it," came her bitter pronouncement.

"You are none of those things, sis."

"Oh, but I am, Cesare."

"You have suffered the loss of a child; and, in quick succession, the loss of your father; you are grieving, and grief dictates its own requirements for healing and takes its own time—you are temporarily fragile of heart—but you are not weak; you are not broken; you are not compromised, nor are you dependent—and any man who enjoys such sad qualities in a woman is no man, at all."

"Then Alfonso is no man for me, still, after all of this time; I have Ercole's true favor, but he is an old man and will not be the Duke forever—even so, I would have done better to marry him, instead of Alfonso."

"Alfonso would have been your jealous enemy still...and to every little usurper to the duchy of Ferrara, born from your union with his father."

Lucrezia gave a disgusted sniff in agreement. "He only let me come here because he thinks that I have gone mad—I have taken his over game and bested him at it, you see, suggesting ways for him, daily, to kill and be free of me..."

"Lucrezia..."

"No, don't look at me that way—he revels in the idea that he shall have me, finally, all to himself, because he is sure that your end is imminent; so I revel in playing my game, which steals some that abominable joy from him and replaces it with guilt, for he knows what part he's played in driving me to such torment."

"That is a dangerous game, Lucrezia."

"He deserves it, Cesare; had mother been in Rome he would never have let me see her. No, he was quite happy to let me come here, relieved even, not to have to host her while he and his father discuss the politics that concern them most—and me; relieved by the certainty that my seeing you, sequestered at Civita Castellana and awaiting your fate, was not even a remote possibility."

"And so you would do that? Pretend to be a mad woman? What gain is there for you in that?"

"Banishment...freedom in exile..."

"You _are_ mad then, to think such a thing—it would lead to sure murder, Lucrezia, so that Alfonso could remarry and plant the seed of his heirs in another, you must know that you are speaking utter foolishness," Cesare chastised her gently.

"I do not hold our mother in such contempt as she thinks, you know; not for what she was before she met our father, or what she became afterward; she is no whore; she is a great lady. And look at this place, Cesare! Theo runs a lucrative farm, thriving groves and vineyards, in this beauteous valley—yet she does not want to be here—why? Because, though he is kind, and loving—she endeavors to be no wife, not to a man that does not have her true heart; no, she endeavors to go back to Rome, and be her own woman.

"We are the same, mother and I, Cesare; my heart is not in Ferrara, as beautiful as it is or for all that it represents...is all that a lady should aspire to; no one would believe that either of us could leave such well-ordered lives—yet we would and mother most certainly will; and I see my destiny in Ferrara no more than she sees her own here in Val Camonica; so, I cannot be the wife, either, because the man who truly has my heart is lost to me..."

"That is not true—that will never be true..."

"You are still on the path away from me, Cesare, and I must take steps to clear a path of my own and head away to my own destiny...now, more than ever before; Alfonso owes me my freedom, after all that he's done to me...things that I find impossible to forgive him for—I cannot endure it any longer."

"Lucrezia, please, you must bide your time—"

"I've had enough of that, Cesare! Enough! This accursed love that you and I share—whether I have you or not, we all know, the three of us, that Alfonso will never truly have my heart—I am sure that no other man ever could. If I cannot have you then I will die if I cannot have my freedom! Provide me with the funds to leave with Giovanni and go on my way, Cesare, I'm begging you; send me to Spain...somewhere...anywhere, away from Italy where I can be anonymous and live life on my own terms, however modest that life would be...I know that you have the funds to make it so."

"You are speaking pure madness, sister—you are not a woman prepared to live such a common life as your are proposing, not accustomed to such an existence—"

"I am a woman accustomed to living in castles, shut up in my room, the only refuge I have from my husband and the world. That is no life. I am trapped, Cesare, in a sure prison; fine though it may be...I have been trying to establish myself, but at every turn there is a tragedy that keeps my position unsettled and ever precarious, don't you understand?"

"I understand more than anyone, Lucrezia, what your circumstances are, how could you ask such a question of me?"

"You said that I am speaking pure madness, Cesare, and you are correct—I am...going mad..."

"Aargh!" he cried out his frustration; for he had more bad news for her; another tragedy for her to endure and he was afraid, at that point, based on her total desperation, the news would send her over the edge.

"I know that this is not what you want to hear, but you must give me _time_ , Lucrezia," he began delicately, trying mightily to hold his own despair in check, "time...for Piccolomini to take his seat upon the throne and restore me to my campaign..."

"And will that act restore, literally, the ground that you have lost, Cesare? Alfonso and Ercole have managed to keep much from me, but not everything—the Romans are ever on the move against you, damn the Conclave! Cardinal Bembo remains my trusted guardian here and has been reporting to me, Cesare, the news that the Duke and my husband endeavor to keep from me; he says that as one dispatcher leaves with news from Ippolito, another arrives with fresh intelligence; Pesaro...Urbino...Sinigaglia..." as Lucrezia's list of reclaimed territories grew, so did the panic in her voice, "Piombino...Perugia—"

"Enough, sister, I know well what has been lost!" Cesare sniped at her, hurt more that her faith in him was so evidently shaken than by the recount of his losses.

His anger stilled her tongue, for she did not want to say another word that would worsen the look upon his face at her then, but suddenly Lucrezia found that she had no more words, at all.

Cesare took a deep breath to calm himself before he spoke again. "I still hold the Romagna, Lucrezia; the Colonna will not move against me, I am assured of that by Fabrizio Colonna, himself; yes, I have suffered losses, but I am not defeated.

"I know that mother angered you with her advice to return to Ferrara, but you said, yourself—she knows not all of the things that we do; you and I and Alfonso alone know all that you cannot share with her, and I hazard that those things that you could have imparted you've kept from her, as well; I shudder to think of what you have kept from me, so busy you were, when we last saw each other, trying to save lives..."

Cesare's soft, sorrowful voice took Lucrezia's thoughts back to that horrible night and her brief time spent in that dark, awful dungeon, regretting that she hadn't outed Alfonso's cruelty—which would have been the sure death of him and the means to her own escape.

Cesare went to his sister, took her hands into his own and knelt down before her. "You must give me time...Lucrezia; time to reverse this horrible turn of events and restore myself; my army is as formidable as they are loyal—still."

"Time..." Lucrezia repeated vacantly as her eyes veered away from his own.

"Yes, time, sis; you must return to Ferrara, for just a little while longer, and when the day comes that I—"

"I am here...now..." Lucrezia's eyes found her brother's again as she rose from her seat to face him, and were full of despair and disbelief, "Giovanni and I, with nothing to hold me to Alfonso or Ferrara, Cesare! I am here now—free! Why can I not abscond from here, away to my own life?"

"You have a duty, still, Lucrezia, to Ferrara, as the wife of a _nobile dei duchi..._ "

The accusation in her eyes hit him before her stony words did. "I see."

"What?"

"My father is dead, but still it continues."

"What, Lucrezia?"

"That night in Ferrara I saved lives. My return to Ferrara saves your political hide. All must remain upstanding and respectable; regardless of my own precarious position with the d'Este's I must help to maintain yours— _'for just a little while longer'_. The success of this family remains ever-dependent upon the misery that I must bear to help attain it."

"No, sis, you misunderstand me..."

"I most certainly do not misunderstand you, Cesare. Or mother."

"I will deliver you, Lucrezia, from the heartbreak that is your marriage!"

"But will you deliver me from the heartbreak that is you, brother?"

Her quiet question was like a blade ripping through Cesare's heart.

"If you could do that you would be free, as well—to do what you truly want; what you and father always wanted; to rule over a kingdom—and surely forget me."

"No...no, Lucrezia..."

"Why is Gioffre coming here? To speak privately, I know, but about what, Cesare?"

Her swift change of subject, always a little jarring and often comical to Cesare, was a troubling one at that moment, that he dreaded discussing.

"That look on your face alerts me that this night of horrid revelations has not yet ended. Tell me."

"You and I, both, need to sit down."

"Yes, as bad as I thought, then."

The siblings settled themselves in opposing chairs across from each other.

"Sancia is near her end; she has been ill for years but has contracted what father and I had..."

"Malaria?"

"Yes; in her already weakened state—there is no hope for her."

"What does this mean for Gioffre? And my Rodrigo?"

"You know that Gioffre wants to marry Maria de Mila; he will be unable to do so until at least a year after his wife's demise; more importantly, he must negotiate to keep Alvito and Squillace and I will help to broker that negotiation with King Frederigo..."

"That should go well," Lucrezia gave a disgusted sniff as she crossed her arms at her brother. "As long as Rodrigo has Miracella and Dante I shall not worry too much; I have had many correspondences with her since our brief time at Dorotea's; she wishes for Rodrigo to remain in her care for the rest of her days and I—"

"Lucrezia..." Cesare's throat choked-up then and he struggled to get the next words out. "Sis...plans have...already been put into motion...Rodrigo has already been given to the care of the Duchess of Bari...Miracella has been dismissed to her own life with her husband...in Livorno; Dante's late father was in the textile guild," he rambled, hoping somehow and ridiculously that the news of Miracella's good fortune would bring his sister some measure of comfort, "his mother still manages a business there, you see, and...Dante will take over, or so I have heard," he concluded as he looked nervously away from her.

"And you have heard this from whom?"

He looked up to meet her stern gaze upon him. "Gioffre, first, who sent me his troubled letter when he learned that Rodrigo was to leave; then from Micheletto, upon return from his investigation in Naples, just days ago."

Cesare expected that his sister would erupt into tears, but she sat across from him silently, staring him down with a surprising look of serenity. Suddenly, she was out of her seat, attacking him with angry fists, beating him upon his chest.

"I hate you, Cesare Borgia! I hate this life that you and father both have condemned me to!" she screamed at him as her tears finally began to fall. "A great whore? A great—"

Cesare felt then the hard slap of his sister's palm against his cheek.

"WHORE? A great whore exacts much more gain out her of circumstance than merely being FUCKED! WHERE?" Lucrezia slapped her brother again, " Is my gain, Cesare?" she wailed at him through squinted eyes, blinded by her tears, her lips quivering from pure rage; she assaulted him again with the rain of her fists against him and Cesare moved not one muscle to stop her, his own tears streaming down his cheeks as he endured her torment. "Tears? Tears, Cesare Borgia?" she grunted at him she realized that he was crying. "Your tears are not enough—"

Cesare, because of his own guilt and torment, almost didn't realize that his sister was trying to wrest his sword from its scabbard; his natural instinct to defend himself took over as he stopped her, even though his heart would have relished such a final end to its torment. As if he was almost another person, out of his body and watching their struggle from some far-off place, Cesare gathered her into his arms, where Lucrezia finally gave up the fight and her desire to see his blood and then crumbled, sobbing her silent and violent indictment of his betrayal of her against him.


	85. The Noble's Wife

"Let me go, brother..."

"Lucrezia, please..."

"I said unhand me."

Cesare heeded her firm order immediately, and released his sister with a heavy heart. "You're not just angry—you don't love me anymore..." he whispered at her as the horror of his revelation washed through his soul.

"I wish that was true...but as with any impossible love, Cesare, I must face the truth; I must go forward; my heart must survive you." Lucrezia turned her back upon him which was more than he could bear; she heard him take swifts steps in her direction. "Leave me alone, Cesare..."

Cesare stopped, but only barely. "You know how I feel about you turning your back to me, sis..." came his gruff complaint at her; she did not respond to him. "Lucrezia, I'm talking to you!"

"And I hear you, brother." Still she refused to face him; he struggled to compose himself as he searched for words that would not aggravate her further, for she seemed only seconds away from banishing him from her room.

"How...how long can you stay here, Lucrezia? Away from Ferrara."

"How long can I stay? How long _will_ I stay, brother, is the better question. I will stay as long as I wish." Lucrezia turned back to face him. "You all want me to return to Ferrara? Well, if that is what you all so desperately want me to do, then certainly I shall do it—and then I will be lost to you, Cesare Borgia, finally and forever. Until then I shall stay here as long as Theo will have me; and then, maybe I shall go to Venice and make amends with my Dorotea; or go to La Bella in Carbognano, whichever suits me; and I must see the Pileggio's in—Livorno, you said? A then I will go on, to Mantua, for I was promised a visit of at least two months there—if I have the Marquessa's good favor, still; I shall go wherever I damn well please, Giovanni and I. As long as I stay away from Rome, I will spare myself my husband's truest ire and have his sanction."

"Alfonso...knows of your plans?"

"Not yet, but he will. And nothing will stop me—not you; not him; not mother; not the final vote of the Conclave—nothing. I have served as an ambassador before—I shall have better success at it this time. So...brother, call me an ambassador of good will; call me a wayward wife—call me _moglie di un nobile duca di Ferrara_ , doing her duty—I don't give a damn."

"Lucrezia...he'll simply order his soldiers to bring you home," Cesare said softly through his frown at her as he took a careful step in her direction.

As her brother advanced Lucrezia backed away from him. "He will not. I am owed this opportunity, Cesare, from all of you, and I shall have it; if his soldiers are given such an order before I am ready to return, then, be assured that I shall escape. And, actually, now that you're here I should begin as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be a good day."

"Tomorrow! You would forego your reunion with Gioffre?" Cesare kept his slow, steady pace at her.

Lucrezia's steps in retreat did not falter. "I will have to brother; I need to be long gone when Alfonso finds out that you were here—otherwise, he won't want me to return to Ferrara at all."

"Which would suit you just as well..."

"It would, but it would look bad for you at this political juncture, would it not? And my return must be guaranteed, yes? For you to go on? Your presence here puts all of that at risk, brother. So my retreat must appear hasty...as if I could not... _wait_...to get away from you."

Lucrezia's eyes at him were as daggers, seeking to rip out his heart and flay his very soul away from him, but served only to match Cesare's fury with her own. "As if?" Cesare grunted his accusation at her, backing her further away in the direction of her bedroom suite. "So you've developed your grand plan, in this brief moment, that sets me on the path further out of your heart..."

"Sets you on the path to your _success_ , brother." Lucrezia almost spat her words at him as she met the scowl upon his face at her with her own narrow, angry, defiant eyes.

"This is madness, sis."

Lucrezia did not appreciate the smile that formed on his face then, that in no way matched the malice in his voice; she found herself more than unsettled by him, but still she did not waver. "It is a little taste of freedom."

They were in the bedroom then, where Cesare was heading her steadily toward the bed.

"A most...temporary...thing, hmm?"

"I don't care. I must have it," she continued to challenge him. As they neared the bed Lucrezia stopped him with a palm to his chest. "You may leave me now, brother."

"I have truly lost you, Lucrezia?" The question was a condescending one.

"Go away from me, Cesare." Her warning was firm, but he advanced further and took her forcefully in hand.

"You don't mean those words." His own came at her through the caress of his lips against her cheek.

"Your kisses are not the balm that would soothe me now."

"Are you sure about that?" Cesare murmured at her as one of his hands suddenly found her neck and took violent, possessive hold of it.

A rapturous gasp escaped her lips. "Quite," she moaned against him. "We've tempted the fates, more than once, brother...even if I wanted you—and I do not..."

Lost in the ecstasy of her, and sure that he had gotten through to her at last, his desire for her had drowned out her words; Cesare's shock was genuine, then, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed and then felt the tip of it against his neck.

"Now is no time for me to be with child—intentionally or otherwise—brother."

"Lucrezia?" As he looked his horror at her, the truth of her words assaulted him with more deadly precision than the crucifix blade she held against his throat.

"Be gone from me, Cesare!" she screamed at him. "Go!"

Undone and hurt beyond all measure, Cesare finally released and stood back from her, rooted to the floor, completely dumbstruck by the realization that his sister hated him with her whole soul.

"Aaargh!" Lucrezia threw the dagger to the floor and was then upon him, beating at his chest with both fists and then pushing him away to make him retreat; Cesare caught her hands up easily and stopped her, then looked his confusion at her, his eyes boring into hers, trying to find any hint of even a shadow of her love for him. All he found was her pure rage. Without another word between them he threw her hands away from him, turned on his heel and marched away from her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Cesare's departure Lucrezia had quickly written two missives and had then gone immediately to the captain of her escort, and gave him her orders to prepare to away. The Captain was most bewildered by her demand, for it had been his understanding from his Lord that the Lady's visit was to be as long as she pleased, but that they would return to Ferrara.

"I will not stay here a moment longer, now, good Captain; please be ready at dawn," she announced loudly enough for all to hear; she did not name her brother specifically, as the reason for her distress, but the inference of his presence would be enough to cause conjecture in her favor when word got back to Alfonso, which it surely would.

"Have these two letters sent now, please—my Lord's forthcoming response to you will ease the concerns that I know you have."

"Yes, my Lady."

The next morning, just before sunup she and Giovanni were heading away with her escort to Venice to see her friend, Lady Dorotea Caracciuola.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What is this? Cesare, did you receive a note from your sister this morning?" Vannozza asked her son when he opened the door to his room, where she and Theo stood looking more than bewildered; she held out a note to her groggy son.

"A note? No," he answered honestly. "What's is your trouble, mother?"

"Lucrezia is leaving—is gone—this very moment, as a matter of fact; I just saw the last of her escort disappear from view. Where is she going? Back to Ferrara? Why did she not tell us goodbye? What on God's earth is going on with her?" came her frantic questions at him.

"I—what does her note say?"

"Not enough—the same as the one she wrote when she said that she was coming here—read it for yourself!" Vannozza gave her disgusted reply as she thrust the note at him again. Cesare refused it.

"I know not where she goes, mother." A half-truth from him then, for he did not know which destination his sister had chosen to visit first.

"And she leaves before seeing Gioffre? You must know something, Cesare...you have given her some bad news, is that it? Is she angry at me because of what I said to her? Or did she come to her senses and go home?"

"Mother, I know as much as you do at this moment," he replied through a frown.

Vannozza's irritation, then, mirrored her son's. "Why won't you read it?"

"It tells you nothing, apparently; I know even less."

Vannozza cast her skeptical glance at him but stilled her tongue.

"I'm sure that she will write to you as soon as she gets to wherever she has gone, my love..." Theo offered.

"Theo, I'm so sorry for her most-inconsiderate behavior..."

"Please do not fret, Vannozza, not about that, anyway, hmm?"

Vannozza turned angrily back to her son. "Get dressed, Cesare, and come talk to me; you were going to tell me something about Gioffre before he got here—I am certain that you imparted whatever that was to your sister, whether that was the thing that caused her departure or not—you will tell me."

Cesare's frown deepened. "I can tell you now, mother..." he said gruffly as he stepped aside to allow their entry, "come in, both of you, so that I may do just that and get back to sleep..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfonso and his father had just finished a meeting with the Duke's administrators and were seated in Ercole's office when a courier arrived.

"My Lord."

"Thank you."

The courier left them.

"What's that, Alfonso?"

"A letter father...from Lucrezia..." Alfonso answered his father absently as he read voraciously through it.

"Oh...is she feeling better? I'm sure the visit with her mother has been beneficial?"

"Yes, father..." he replied through gritted teeth. "She sends her heartfelt regard to you."

"Oh, wonderful! When you reply to her—"

"Excuse me, father, I must see to another matter...I promise to relate more when I return..."

"Hmm? What's that? Alfonso? What—where—" Ercole called out to his son, but Alfonso had already disappeared through the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moments later Alfonso was grilling the soldier who had couriered Lucrezia's letter.

"And when did he arrive?"

"Just yesterday evening, my Lord."

"And what did they do?"

"I don't know my Lord, we have been encamped on the front grounds, and very far from the residence."

"And she came to the Captain when?"

"It was well after midnight, my Lord, maybe closer to one in the morning, or so, when the Captain called for us to deliver her letters."

"Us? Letters?"

"She sent another to Venice, my Lord, to Lady Caracciuola."

"And then?"

"And then I left, my Lord."

"Did she speak words to you?"

"Only to give us her thanks and to wish us a safe journey, my Lord."

"What was her demeanor?"

"Her demeanor, my Lord?" the courier asked him nervously.

"Yes, man, her demeanor!"

"Well..."

"Out with it!"

"She was a bit agitated, my Lord, and seemed very anxious to leave..."

"Was her brother's visit expected?"

"I...I would have no way of knowing that, my Lord..."

"How many soldiers did His Excellency arrive with?"

"I'd hazard that there were a good fifteen hundred men, at least, my Lord, that set up camp across the field from us."

"Fifteen hundred..." Alfonso repeated in amazement, "that set up camp..." Everyone knew of Cesare's penchant for housing himself with his soldiers, so Alfonso's next question was most critical to him. "Did he pitch his own tent with his men?"

"I'm sure that he did, my Lord..."

"Was he in it when you left?"

"I...I know not my Lord," came the man's unsettled reply; Alfonso d'Este was well-known for his volatile temper, and after each intense question the man felt that he was sure to bear the brunt of it. "He was received at Signore Canale's door, but I know nothing of his whereabouts as of time I was summoned by my Captain, my Lord."

"Good man...thank you..."

The sudden calm that washed over Alfonso was as unsettling to the man as the burgeoning anger that had preceded it; the soldier breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"I shall call on you again shortly, with a message to deliver back to your Captain."

"Yes, my Lord, at your convenience."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Father..."

"Well, what was that all about?"

"Nothing. Have you ever heard anything about Cesare Borgia in Venice? Especially at the home his Captain Caracciuola?"

"What? No, I cannot say that I have, particularly, why?"

"No reason..."

Ercole shot his son a bewildered look.

"He's left Civita Castellana, it seems...and has arrived with fifteen hundred men, or so, to visit with his mother at Canale's farm—how is that possible? I thought he was to sequester himself during the Conclave."

"He is, although I believe the only true edict was for him to stay away from Rome, Alfonso. Have you heard something that troubles you? I would imagine with her brother's soldiers and our own Lucrezia is well protected, what is your worry?"

"She has left Val Camonica, father, remember?"

"Oh! Yes...yes...that's right..." Ercole seemed quite flustered at himself for forgetting the thing he and his son had been talking about, just mere moments prior.

"No matter father, of course it slipped your mind, with everything that has preoccupied you this morning...and the fact that I left you so suddenly..."

"That's nice of you my son, but there's no denying the obvious, eh?"

"I have no idea what you mean, father..."

"No matter, hmm? The duchy will be in your most-capable hands soon."

"Stop that, father."

"I'll tell you what you _should_ do, my son..."

"What, father?"

"You should counsel Lucrezia to stay put at Lady Caracciuola's until after the Conclave has reached its decision; all of this traveling about is dangerous."

"Yes, father, I most certainly will."

"And you tell her that it came straight out of my own mouth, hmm?"

"I will father."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cardinal Bembo."

The Cardinal had been summoned to Alfonso's office and stood warily before him.

"My Lord..."

"You have family in Venice, I understand."

"I do."

"You need to go visit them. Immediately."

"Excuse me, my Lord?"

"I actually hate to do this, but you are truly the only one that I can spare—and trust—with the task I'm about to put before you," Alfonso admitted grudgingly.

"I...do not understand, my Lord."

"Lucrezia...has left her mother in Val Camonica and seen fit to spirit herself away to Venice, to see Lady Dorotea; she has outlined quite an extensive travel itinerary to me, that I do not agree with—but will afford her."

"And what has any of this to do with me, my Lord?"

"I cannot leave Ferrara now, and you very well know why; since you are her trusted friend I will leave it to you, at the moment, to see to her protection—you have done so well at that, in the past," Alfonso added snarkily.

"Is there some threat that she is under, Alfonso? Speak plainly to me."

"Why, yes, there is, Bembo; the threat she is ever under—the threat of Cesare Borgia."

"What has happened?"

"That's what I want to know. Cesare is in Val Camonica; my basic understanding is that he arrived yesterday evening...and that Lucrezia left at dawn today. I want to know what happened in between those hours."

"You want me to spy on her? For you?" Bembo asked him, more than outraged.

"I want you to caution her to tread lightly with me, Bembo. You know what her state of mind has been of late; I am giving her the benefit of the doubt first, because I owe her that in abundance."

"Yes, you do," Bembo heartily agreed.

"Watch yourself, Bembo; contrary to your popular belief, I love my wife, and I am doing well not to race away from here, go to Val Camonica, and run the Borgia Fuck through with my sword!"

Bembo had to admit within himself that Alfonso's manner since the death of Rodrigo Borgia had been one of sincere atonement toward Lucrezia. He still did not understand the reason for Alfonso's total hatred toward Cesare Borgia and found his concern most extreme; then again, Alfonso was quite the possessive one. "Alright, Alfonso, but I shall most-upfront with her."

"I would expect for you to do no less, Bembo, and you would have my sincere appreciation for it."

Bembo gave his respectful nod at the man.

"I am having a letter sent to the Captain of her escort by separate courier; I would like for you to deliver this one to her for me..." Alfonso handed Bembo his sealed parchment. "Right away."

Bembo gave him another nod and turned to go.

"Bembo—"

The Cardinal turned back to face Alfonso.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia!"

"Oh, my Dorotea!"

The two women ran into each other's arms.

"Giovanni! Hello again!" she waved at the boy after he was set down on the ground next to the carriage. "And you brought Princess! Both of you, come here to me!"

Giovanni brought the dog with him and received Dorotea's hug and sweet kiss upon his cheek.

When Dorotea released him, Giovanni stood tall and prepared to give his rehearsed speech to her. "Hello, my Lady...thank you for receiving us..." Giovanni looked up at his mother suddenly, a tad stricken.

"On such short..." Lucrezia prodded him quietly and gently.

"Oh yes! On such short notice!" He gave his gentlemanly bow at her.

"You precious, precious boy!" Dorotea delighted at him, "My sincere welcome to you! Lucrezia, you are raising yourself quite a wonderful man, here."

"Thank you, my love—where is Maria?"

"Waiting in her crib for your sweet kiss—come on, let's get you all settled..." Dorotea smiled brightly as she led Lucrezia and her party excitedly away and into her palazzo.


	86. Venice, September 1503

"Oh, Dorotea, I apologize again for the horrid end to your visit with me..." Lucrezia sobbed into her friend's neck.

"Lucrezia? You know that was no fault of yours...stop this...what is it, my love?"

"I hardly know where to begin..."

"You have been through so much, my love; I'm so very sorry about your daughter and your father..."

"It all feels like a dream, Dorotea, a horrible dream from which I seem unable to awaken from..."

"But surely your escape from Alfonso has brought you some respite? Your visit with your mother—"

"Was sad and disappointing; what she and Cesare both expect of me remains unbearable..."

"You saw Cesare? Oh, my love, that is a bright bit of news! I'm certain that you found your comfort in him?"

"I did not, Dorotea."

Lucrezia's sad pronouncement wilted the hopeful smile upon Dorotea's face as she reached out her hand to her despondent friend. "Lucrezia...what has happened?"

"A thing most unthinkable yet completely inevitable, Dorotea—Cesare and I...are...we...are ended. Finally."

"I don't believe that, Lucrezia! Not for one second, do I believe it!"

"I am angry at the world, at this moment, and I do not think that fact will ever change, Dorotea; this visit; all of my current plans—I am only delaying my true fate."

"Lucrezia..." Dorotea took Lucrezia into her embrace, "unburden yourself to me," she commanded her softly.

Dorotea, being the only other soul in the world that Lucrezia could tell the complete truth to, heard the story of her life since they had last seen each other. Sometime near to dusk a messenger arrived at the door of her suite.

"And so he has shown you his true kindness, at last—yet you still do not trust him."

"Not as long as Cesare lives, Dorotea, no, I do not."

"We must see to the children before we can continue, yes?"

"Yes."

"Come in!" Dorotea called out then.

"My Lady—" one of Dorotea's servants approached them urgently then gave a curtsy at them both before she turned to Lucrezia, "Duchess, a message has arrived for you..."

Lucrezia looked a question as she waited for the woman to produce it.

"Well? Where is it?" Dorotea asked the woman.

"Lady Caracciuola...Duchess...good evening to you both..." said the scarlet-robed man who entered the room then.

"Cardinal Bembo?"

"My Lady," Bembo smiled at both of the surprised women as Dorotea's servant left them all, quickly and quietly, to their business, "a message—from your husband." He held out a missive to Lucrezia.

"Of course; I've been expecting this, thank you, Cardinal."

"I shall go and see to the children, Lucrezia—come to the nursery when you are done, yes?"

"Yes, Dorotea, thank you."

Dorotea left the room.

"Lucrezia? Are you alright?"

"He's sent you to spy on me, is that it, Pietro?"

"That was his strange intent—surely you know that I told him that I would do no such thing. He wishes to know why you left Val Camonica so abruptly."

"I left because my brother arrived—and you know, well, how he feels about my brother, Pietro."

"Yes, I know well how he feels...but not why."

"You know the virulent rumors that run rampant throughout Italy, still, about me and my brother, Pietro, for almost all of my life now; my husband has come to the conclusion, over these short years of our marriage, that there is some truth to them and does not trust us to be alone together. My brother's visit to Signore Canale's farm was an unexpected one and so I made haste away to spare myself from Alfonso's sure fury, that's all."

"The dog! He knows you, Lucrezia, how could he allow himself to entertain such vile notions?"

"I no longer care why he thinks what he thinks but it is not my intent to return to Ferrara with such an innocent misunderstanding hanging over my head or the turmoil that would stem from it. Tell my husband that when you report back to him, Pietro."

"Oh, I will, Lucrezia, most assuredly, the beast."

"Name calling does no good, Pietro...how long can you stay?"

"He wishes for me to be your shadow until you return to Ferrara. I only agreed to come because...well, we were both worried about you, Lucrezia. His reasons may be contemptible, but his concern is true."

"So...you are still my friend?"

"Ever."

"And I appreciate that more than you will ever know, Pietro. Come...have some refreshment and let Dorotea have a room prepared for you..."

"Is the Captain about?" Bembo asked of Gian Batista Caracciuola.

"He is in the field, as I understand it; waiting, like everyone else, to see what Cesare's fate will be."

Bembo gave a nod at her.

"Dorotea and I were getting reacquainted with each other when you arrived, Pietro, I'm afraid that I must abandon you for her tonight; I promise that, beginning with the morning, you may shadow me to your heart's content, and that nothing would please me more."

"Yes, Lucrezia, that would greatly suit," Bembo smiled warmly at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so Lucrezia and Dorotea put Maria and Giovanni down for the night and went back to Dorotea's suite to resume their previous conversation.

"Ah...this wine is wonderful, Dorotea, but not as sinfully delicious as that vintage you served me on my last visit."

"And remember that I promised never to serve it again—you know how it affected you then..."

"I would love to be so affected again, my Lady," Lucrezia joked her.

They were both laying on their stomachs across Dorotea's sumptuous bed, facing the loggia beyond her room and the view of the starry, waning summer night sky.

"Yes, well, now that Cardinal Bembo is about that is even more of a reason for me to keep it locked away from you—he must never see either of us in such a condition."

Both women laughed heartily; when their laughter subsided Dorotea turned on her side to face Lucrezia. "It is wonderful to hear your laughter, my love."

"Thanks to you. Before this moment even the idea of laughter seemed an impossible thing, yet here I am." Lucrezia turned on her side then to face Dorotea. "Thank you, my friend." She gave her a little kiss.

"It is my pleasure."

Lucrezia grew serious again; she told Dorotea the rest of her news, resuming with her mother's tale of her visit to the Vatican to see Cesare, and of her harsh marital advice.

"To be fair, my love, your mother does not know everything that there is to know...and often, our mothers turn a blind eye toward us, Lucrezia, because we daughters are the mirror of their mistakes."

Lucrezia then told her the heartbreaking news about Rodrigo. "And so my baby is passed from household to household with as much regard as a piece of furniture..." Lucrezia ended her report bitterly; Dorotea responded quietly by taking one of Lucrezia's hands into hers and then gave her palm a kiss full of sorrow and apology. Lucrezia concluded with the account of her very physical fight with Cesare, then gave a heavy sigh as her reality settled back over her.

"What, my love?"

"So many things, Dorotea. To think that my mother was involved with della Rovere—it explains so much...he has hated us always, and first. I appreciate how kind Felice della Rovere was to my mother, but I still wish her vile father dead."

"You must trust in Cesare, Lucrezia; if he says that Piccolomini will win the throne then I think that you should not worry over it."

"Yes well, there is still this new acrimony between us—the first of its kind, Dorotea, and I am undone. After all that we've been through—I am truly not his choice. And was I mad? I must have been to think that he would ever give it all up for me, completely mad."

"Not mad, Lucrezia..." Dorotea took her friend's chin in hand and looked deeply into her eyes, "merely in love." Silent tears came back at her. "No...no...do not do this to yourself; I understand your anger at him, truly I do; but I do not doubt that he has a plan for you, even if it means that he must give you up. When he finds himself securely reinstated I am positive that he will bring about that which he told me he promised you long ago...a release from your marriage to your own life with your children."

"He told you about that?"

"Yes, he did; and I promised that he would have any help that I could ever render in order to help him achieve it."

Lucrezia's misty eyes were full of surprise and appreciation.

"And I fully expect to be able to keep that promise, Lucrezia, for soon, I am going on to a life of my own...away from Gian; away from Venice; away _with_ my Diego."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Lucrezia and Dorotea continued their visit with one another, Cardinal Bembo penned his report to Alfonso d'Este:

_"My Lord d'Este,_

_I arrived in Venice at approximately eight this evening at the palazzo of Captain and Lady Caracciuola. The Captain is in the field, spending his time between stations in Gradisca and Faenza, as he awaits the outcome of the Conclave, as we all do, and which turn his truest allegiance shall finally take pending the same._

_I have found your wife, Lady Lucrezia in fair spirits and good health, as well as little Giovanni. She has informed me that her brother, His Excellency Cesare Borgia, availed himself to Val Camonica, in a manner unexpected by all at the residence of Signore Theo Canale, unaware that his sister was in attendance. Upon his arrival the Lady made her immediate departure, for she wished for there to be no occasion to come about that would cause question, scandal, conflict of interest, or any other hint of impropriety to be cast upon her, you, the duchy of Ferrara or the d'Este family name at this delicate time or any other._

_I was made welcome by Lady Caracciuola and was offered rooms; however, I declined the offer and write to you now from where I have been accommodated by my own loving father and mother at their palazzo very near by, per your previous instructions._

_By the time you receive this you will have no doubt received the Lady's response to your private letter to her. I am only aware that her next desire is to visit your beloved sister, the Marquessa, in Mantua, upon her departure from Venice. I await further instructions from you as to how you wish for me to proceed._

_Respectfully,_

_Cardinal Pietro Bembo"_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Away from Venice? And your husband? How, Dorotea?"

"My Diego has sailed twice with Cristoforo Colombo, Lucrezia; he has seen the New World—and now he has a ship of his own...men to command..."

"What?"

"Well..." Dorotea began conspiratorially, "the Catalans would call him a pirate—"

"Dorotea? A pirate? You cannot mean that you would go away with him!"

"He is not at all what you think, Lucrezia; the thing is he has secured the funds to see us comfortably away from here. Your father has not been gone long but the oath that my husband made to...treat me...to...his oath to the Pope, ended as soon as he heard the news of his demise. I will not live this way for the rest of my life. Diego will not allow it, not a moment longer than it takes for us to leave here."

"So I came to you just in time, my Dorotea."

Dorotea nodded at her.

"And here I've been going on about my wretched self—are you and Maria alright?"

"We're always alright when Gian is not here."

"Oh, my love..."

"No matter what happens next in Rome, we are leaving Italy—soon; you and Cesare are the only ones that will ever know where we are—and if you ever desire to do the same...leave Italy—my door will always be open to you, Lucrezia."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two nights later Alfonso was reading his report from Cardinal Pietro Bembo.

"What's that, Alfonso?"

"Lucrezia's response, father."

"Is she well? How is Giovanni?"

"Both fine. I have given her my permission to go to Mantua after the new Pope is crowned; I shall prepare a letter now to Isabella so that she may expect her."

"Very good, son. While she is there I think that I shall go and intrude on them all," Ercole chuckled.

"Yes, by that time I think that we'll all need to find our comfort and happy blessings in one another."

"Ah! Yes, that will be a happy reunion, indeed! Come, now, we've a meeting with the Ministers."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that same week Gioffre had arrived in Val Camonica. And for the rest of Cesare's visit with Theo and his mother, Vannozza remained in an outrage over the news of little Rodrigo's handling; and even the visit from her youngest son did nothing to help assuage her fears for her grandson, or the fact that she would never see him again.

The family was assembled at supper bringing each other current in the all the matters that affected them. "I'm sorry now that I told her what I did, Cesare—she must think me a monster!" Vannozza lamented, unable find her appetite, still, because of Lucrezia's absence and unknown whereabouts.

"Mother, as hard as it is to say, your advice was sound. But I have a feeling that Alfonso will permit her the indulgence to travel as she pleases now; she did say that she would go to Mantua eventually and—"

"Mantua? But you said that you knew nothing of her plans, Cesare..." Everything about Vannozza at that moment was an angry accusation.

"I don't, really, she...may have mentioned Mantua in our last, brief conversation," he began testily, "she was distraught, mother; her words were flying at me with such venom that I could not make out clearly everything that she was saying to me; when she left me I did not know that her intent was to leave here, as well."

"You lie to me, Cesare...have you forgotten that I know what your lies look like?" she hissed at him through her narrowed eyes.

"Mother, please calm yourself...I will do all that I can..."

"You can do nothing, Gioffre, you're hanging on to Squillace by a thread, yourself," she shot back at him.

"Vannozza..."

"No, Theo, do not make your sympathetic apologies for my children, they are not worthy."

"Vannozza, you are upset, my love, and understandably so—" Theo reached for her hand and was batted away.

"Enough! From all of you!" With that Vannozza stormed away from them all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so the weeks went slowly onward. Only once did Vatican City witness the _fumata nera_ , indicating that the required votes had not been cast. Finally, the _fumata bianca_ issued forth from the Sistine Chapel on September 22, 1503. Just as Cesare had assured his family, Francesco Todeschini Piccolomini was elected and named himself Pope Pius III.


	87. Illumination

It was only a matter of hours before Cesare prepared to depart Val Camonica after the arrival of the messenger bearing the news that Pope Pius III had been elected. Vannozza had remained angry at him and despondent over the unknown whereabouts of her daughter and grandson those last weeks while he was there; yet, even with the tension lingering between them, it had still been a comfort for Cesare to be with his family.

To take his own mind off of his sister he'd engaged his soldiers in rigorous rounds of daily practices and drills and was happily surprised when his brother, Gioffre, asked to be included. That Gioffre was a born marksman was no surprise, but Cesare was quite proud to see what an excellent swordsman he had become, as well.

It had been the best thing that he could have done for himself; for when he finally put his head to his pillow on those nights, so far removed from the physical presence of his sister, exhaustion escorted sleep to find him, ready and willing to be taken over.

So when he called his mother to meet with him on his last night she did not balk or tarry; she took her seat across from him at Theo's dining table and was, however, still sullen and surprisingly subdued.

"Don't worry, mother—this is everything that we need—Cesare's success is guaranteed," Gioffre tried to reassure her.

Vannozza gave a long, cool look at both of her sons before she spoke. Cesare braced himself.

"What is it mother?"

"You can ask me such a question, Gioffre? Really? It's not Cesare that I'm worried about, at the moment."

Cesare took a deep breath as he looked at his mother. _If only you knew, mother; that my heartbreak is even greater than your own..._

Vannozza looked askance at her son, instantly suspicious of him, for he was shooting those eyes at her, the ones that used to make all of her anger melt away when he was a boy, caught up in and found out over some infraction or other; those eyes, all pouty, and full of equal measures of guilt and innocence—and all of his love for her; and the silent plea for forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve but so desperately needed, anyway. What broke her heart then, as it had done in the past, was the fact that it was no ploy to manipulate her forgiveness or easy treatment—his guilt had always been confessed to her, with torment and true shame over the fact that he had displeased her.

"Cesare? What is it?" she asked him then, for he almost looked to be near tears.

"I knew that she was going away, I'm sorry that I lied to you." He looked down at his lap, afraid to meet the sure heat that would come blasting at him from is mother's eyes.

"Cesare?"

"You've been worried all of this time...she is safe, mother; I've had no word from her, but she is safe. She has either gone to see La Bella at Carbognano, or Lady Caracciuola in Venice. We..." he almost let it slip that they'd had an argument, "my last trip to Ferrara...I left on bad terms with Alfonso; to the point that Lucrezia found it necessary to distance herself from me so that word would not get back to him," he looked up at his mother then, "and make things difficult for her upon her return."

"What? Another jealous husband? So jealous that Lucrezia cannot enjoy the company of her family? That's why I was not allowed to come to Ferrara, isn't it?" Vannozza asked the question more of herself than to her son. "Another beast..." she muttered disgustedly, "and I told her to go back to him...what else has he done? Did she confide in you, Cesare? Because she has told me nothing..." Vannozza's question then was a desperate one.

"She has the sure and genuine favor of the Old Duke, mother..."

"Then she surely should have married him instead," she snapped back at him.

"She will go back to Ferrara in her own good time—Alfonso owes her that much; and when she produces an heir—"

"You mean 'if', Cesare, surely," Vannozza said as she angrily rose up from her seat. "All of this time I thought that she was happy," she began a slow pace of the floor. "Why in the world did I dare to think it; it all makes sense, now: her quick departure away from Ferrara...and now from here; her desire to stay away as long as possible—I ask you again—what has he done to her?" She looked around the room at her men and found Theo's sad, disheartened eyes upon her, and Gioffre's, registering total disappointment at all that he was hearing.

"She told me very little, I'm sure that I don't know everything, myself; but she was happy, mother, very happy about the baby; I was under the impression, then, that the two of them had settled themselves in the marriage very well," Cesare lied, for to tell the truth of what he did know would send his mother over the edge.

"Well, apparently not, as she is so intent to delay her return as long as is possible to do."

"Do not worry, please? I called you and Gioffre here to apprise you of what's next—please sit down?" Cesare asked her softly. Gioffre went to her and guided her lovingly to her seat then remained, kneeling, at her side as he held her hand.

"I have more funds ready for you, mother, to carry through the rest of the renovations of your inns, and your own personal use beyond that, do you understand? You will want for nothing."

"What is this? You sound as if you're going away, Cesare."

"I am, mother; to the destiny that father endeavored for us all," came his bitter reply. "Gioffre, I am on good terms with Fabrizio Colonna; with Sancia at death's door we must act quickly, now; Alvito may already be lost to you, but I have the funds, as well, to send Fabrizio to Squillace to quell the rebellion there and bring the peace, yes?"

"Yes, brother, thank you."

"Good. With the support of the Colonna and Pope Pius it shall be easier, now, for me to treat with King Louis and King Frederigo on your behalf and negotiate Squillace, which we shall do immediately—you will come with me to Rome and then return to your lands, secure in your vassalship—with, or without your wife."

"And what about Lucrezia, Cesare?" Vannozza spoke up, her voice full of defiance and indignation. "What security shall she have? Traipsing about the countryside when she should be in Ferrara? The death of her child is an omen...a bad omen...then Rodrigo...and so she fled..." Vannozza was working herself into a state.

Cesare looked uncomfortably at everyone in the room. "Gioffre...Theo—would you please give us a moment alone?"

"Certainly..." Theo gave Vannozza a kiss to the top of her hand and then a reassuring pat upon Cesare's shoulder when he passed him on the way out; Gioffre gave his mother a kiss upon her cheek and then a worried glance at his brother from behind her before he made his own reluctant departure.

When they were alone Cesare went to his mother and knelt before her, taking both of her hands into his own as he looked up and was met with her anxious, yet steely, gaze.

"Mother—if I could run my sword through him, I would—gladly—"

"And I would be just as glad, Cesare, but tell me—for what reason? Why won't either of you tell me? Sforza deserved his fate, without question, as far as I'm concerned. And the little Prince, as well, for all the good he ever actually did my Lucrezia—he was a virgin before they married, did you know that?"

"Mother...what does—"

"A weak, fragile, timid little virgin—no man, at all! He couldn't get it to work on their wedding night and so my daughter had to endure that unspeakable, horrid, travesty in front of you and that fuck of a king..." she fumed at her son, wincing his own displeasure at the memory. "Then, finally he does and the only thing he was good for—was leaving her with a child that she would never be able to hold close to her bosom."

"Mother..."

"Jealous of you...afraid of his own shadow—and and idiot, in the bargain, to draw a sword against you!"

"Mother, please..."

"And now a third fuck; that is all that I can possibly gather from this fortress of silence that greets me when I ask you both what her trouble is. We have... _all_...done so wrong by her, Cesare; if neither of you will tell me how she truly fares in Ferrara, how can I possibly help?"

"You cannot, mother—"

Stricken by his brutal frankness, a despairing gasp escaped her.

"But I can. And I will."

"How? Politics prevent you from—"

"Politics prevent me _now_ —but not indefinitely."

"I'm listening, Cesare."

"When the time is right, mother, I will deliver her from the oppression that is her husband," he vowed to her through tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh? And when will that be? How would you go about such a thing?"

"Just believe me when I say that I will do so—we...I would have your blessing? To bring such an event to fruition?"

Vannozza looked deeply into her son's eyes, and was very clear about what he was proposing.

"So...we are all convinced, the three of us, that an heir to the duchy is absolutely not the solution to her problems, Cesare?"

"I...she...seems...not to want that, any longer..." he managed with great difficulty.

"What does she want, then?"

 _Me. And I want her._ "Freedom...from her pain, mother." _And again...that would be me._

"Would I ever see her again, Cesare?"

"Only if it was safe for all concerned to be able to do so. We both know that would not be likely." He watched her sadly, as his words sank into her.

"You would really do such a thing?"

"I made a vow to her, mother, long ago...that if her marriage to Alfonso was not genuine...if it ever became untenable, in any manner at all—that I would; that I would deliver her. To her own life, with her son and her newborn."

"As far back as little Rodrigo, then..."

"Yes."

"And so there was trouble, then...from the very beginning; in spite of all of his assurances at their betrothal...all of this time...all of these years...no wonder that she is so undone...and I told her to go back, Cesare," Vannozza said then, with a complete look of horror upon her face.

"As she must, mother, until such time as I can see her safely away—I'm working all of that out...you must both have faith in me and give me...give me some time."

Vannozza did not even have to ask the question for it was more than readable in her eyes and upon her quivering, silent lips.

"We are talking a matter of months, mother, if that long. But no more years, my love; there is much for me to do, and I mean to see her away from him as soon as it is humanly possible for me to do so—I have your blessing, mother?"

"Yes, Cesare, you have my blessing. I understand that it is not all worked out yet; I understand that her freedom means our separation, my love; but when the time comes—will you at least tell me where they will be?"

"You know that would not be the safest thing to do, either, mother—would you please trust me? Trust her complete well-being to me? I will not fail her again, that is my promise to you, both."

"It seems that I have no choice; but if I did, I would tell you that, yes—I trust you to do not even remotely less, Cesare."

Although the look on Vannozza's face was calm and full of her evident love for him, her voice was as chilling as his father's had ever been when Cesare had been given an order of such dire importance; it was almost as if Rodrigo was speaking to him through Vannozza, infusing her quiet words with his own angry essence from beyond the grave; and the call, still, not to fail him.

"I...Gioffre and I must...go...prepare to go..." Cesare stammered, more than unsettled by the strange moment that had just passed between them. And then, suddenly, Rodrigo was gone.

"Goodbye, Cesare. A kiss, my love," Vannozza stepped closer to him, seeming as her usual self, and and gave him a final hug and kiss.

"Goodbye, mother—I love you."

"Oh! My heart; my son," a tear dropped down her cheek. "I love you...Godspeed to you."

Cesare nodded his final, silent goodbye, then left to thank Theo for his hospitality, collect Gioffre, and make haste for Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I do love this time of year; the worst heat of summer is over; winter's cold is still months away...it is a beautiful night, yes, Lucrezia?"

"It is, Pietro, and I see that you are greatly enjoying yourself, freed, as we both are, from our usual restraints," Lucrezia said through an impish smile at him.

They were seated next to each other on the second floor loggia off from the kitchen, enjoying a bottle of wine; Giovanni was already down for the night but Dorotea was still in the nursery trying to get her Maria off to sleep.

"Venice is good for you, I see. It is nice to see you at ease, Lucrezia," Bembo smiled warmly at her.

"Friends, Pietro...very good friends, have a way making such a thing so."

"Ah, but—"

"Shh..." she said as she turned to him and put a finger to his lips, "don't say another word; the crickets are singing the most lovely song and I don't want to miss a single verse..." she whispered at him.

"Only you, Lucrezia d'Este, could tell a man to shut up in so lovely a manner," he whispered back at her. They both chuckled.

Bembo settled himself as best he could, but the night and the wine were both intoxicating; but both of those things combined were nowhere near as intoxicating as the heavenly creature sitting beside him; and she was truly as luminous an any of the other heavenly bodies sparkling down at them from the night sky. Unable to control his desire a moment longer he dared to take one of her hands and give her palm a sweet kiss.

He knew that it was a risk, and he was expecting her outrage; a slap to his cheek; a reprimand only, if he was lucky; all of the above and her hasty departure if he was not; and so her quiet response in the form of a strange, almost vacant glare happily surprised him, even though he did not sense her permission to proceed; he waited patiently to see if he would receive it.

Lucrezia stared at him as if he was a thing of wonder; to a certain extent, he was. There was a time when the look of him, alone, was a temptation, because he was handsome; he was talented; he had a smile that melted her heart; and because he reminded her so much of her truest love. At that moment, that fact alone was the biggest indictment against him. And then he did a thing that sealed his fate completely, ensuring that his lips would never touch hers: his smile faded; and it was as if Cesare had suddenly appeared before her. She turned away from him abruptly, with her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she tried to wish her brother's twin away.

"Lucrezia? I'm sorry...I—"

"No, it is me—"

"You are thinking of your husband; even after everything...and here alone—you still honor your vows." Bembo's admiration for her was just as obvious as his disappointment.

"Do not hold me upon that pedestal, please," she smiled sadly at him.

"I love you, Lucrezia, you have always known it."

"And I love you—too much to end our true friendship, Pietro—passion ruins everything, does it not?"

"Lucrezia..."

"No—you are a most beautiful man, but...you look too much like my brother and it repulses me, Pietro, I'm sorry." Lucrezia amazed herself at those words, for once upon a time she imagined having him, for just that reason. She took his hand and kissed the back of it. "If only you didn't..." she sighed wistfully when her eyes found his again.

At that moment the pedestal that Bembo held her upon rose up to the heavens and out of sight; heartbroken though he was, it proved to him that the salacious rumors about the siblings' unholy love for each other were all lies, and it was a belief that he would defend to anyone until the grave robbed him of the ability to do so.

"Then my love for you shall remain intact, Lucrezia, and courtly; but it shall never die."

"And I will treasure your love and friendship, to the end of my days. You have made my life in Ferrara bearable—I will always love you for that, Pietro."

Pietro kissed her hand again and was more than content with enjoying the freedom of being allowed that sweet indulgence. "It has been my honor. But, still, I must find a way."

"A way? A way...to do what?" Lucrezia asked as they settled against each other, shoulder to shoulder, gazing back out at the starry night.

"To look like someone else, of course," he turned and smiled broadly at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Your Excellence, it is good to see you back—and so much healthier."

"Thank you, Cardinal Sforza, it is good to be back."

"There is much to apprise you of...come with me, he is ready to see you-a private meeting." Ascanio led Cesare briskly away to meet with Piccolomini in his office.

"Of course. When is Pope Pius to be crowned?"

"Second Sunday in October; he must be ordained and consecrated first."

"Who will consecrate him?"

Ascanio gave him a look.

"Yes, why am I not surprised."

"Cardinal Riario will perform the coronation."

"Good."

"His Holiness shall reconfirm you as _Gonfalonier_ —he wishes to do so tomorrow."

"Why not today—I'm ready."

"But he is not—he suffers with the gout; it has gotten worse recently, it seems. Nevertheless, he has been busy and has the cardinals in an uproar, already," Ascanio smirked to himself.

"Oh? Enlighten me," Cesare smiled back at him.

"Well, with the news of your reconfirmation, of course."

"Was that really a surprise to anyone?"

"Amazingly—yes. They all seem surprised by everything that he does, actually. He has his medical issues, but his mind is sharp; and the reforms that he is calling for would be made by any of the others, if they wore his crown; they simply balk because they don't think that the compromises made were compromising enough."

"Meaning my own, to be precise."

"Exactly."

"Well...they shall just have to deal with it, hmm?"

Ascanio gave an amused snort of agreement as he ushered Cesare into Piccolomini's office.

"Excellency! It is good to see you again! We are sorry that We cannot rise..." Piccolomini smiled at Cesare as he motioned to his foot, "three times a day We must be wrapped up, here...bishop's weed...it brings relief, however, so We will not complain." Cesare went and knelt before the old man behind his desk, then kissed his ring.

"Holiness. I wish for your speedy relief."

"Thank you, son. We did not get the chance to offer you Our condolences for your father; We miss him greatly, Cesare."

"Yes, as do I. However, congratulations to you and my heartfelt thanks for your support, Holiness."

"Of course. You've quite a bit on your plate, eh?"

"Yes, Holiness."

"Well, We expect some resistance, of course, but We see success looming before Us, Excellency; they will all understand, soon enough, that which We already do—you truly love this Rome and this Italy, the same as your father did; and that no one in this Vatican has been innocent of making the occasional misstep, here or there, hmm? della Rovere is vocal and his prejudice is persistent, please know that We are aware of that—but leave him to me, Excellency, yes?"

"Yes, thank you, Holiness, again, I appreciate your support."

"So...We understand that a meeting is in order between you, King Frederigo and King Louis, regarding personal matters and those of State."

"Yes, Holiness."

"We shall reconfirm you in the morning and you may take your leave at your convenience and apprise Us, of course, upon your return."

"Yes, Holiness, thank you."

With that Cesare was dismissed; Ascanio escorted him out.

"Well, Cesare, good luck with King Louis; he's not very happy with the Orsini right now...I hope that he will do better by you this time around than he did with his last offer of assistance."

"He will, Cardinal Sforza—"

"Ascanio."

Cesare smiled at the Cardinal. "I think that he has learned well, by now, what a traitorous lot the sons of Rome truly are; their latest defection to Spain only cements his support of me, Ascanio; I am confident that he will treat with me fairly and expeditiously."

"Very good, my friend. Until tomorrow morning, then."

"Yes."

The two men parted ways; as Cesare made his way out of the Basilica he became aware of quick footsteps coming up from behind him.

"Excellency! Must you rush off?"

"Cardinal della Rovere," Cesare smiled at the man when he turned to face him, "to what do I owe?"

 _Well, I still stand and breath, Vannozza said nothing, it seems_. "I just wanted to welcome you back but I see that you are on your way to an appointment?"

"Yes, but I'll be back in the morning, as well you know, to be reconfirmed as _Gonfalonier_."

"Yes, congratulations."

Cesare glared at the man as he waited patiently for his next insincerity and was duly rewarded.

"Your old rooms are ready for you, Excellency, at Castel Sant'Angelo..."

 _Of course they are...so that you can have me murdered in my sleep tonight._ "Thank you, Cardinal, that is most considerate." _Send your assassin then, I won't be there; find my decoy and my soldiers, ready to thwart and have him lead it all back to you—then I can have you arrested for treason once and for all._

"Yes, well, I won't keep you, then..."

Cesare gave a bow and a forced a smile at della Rovere before he turned and walked away.

"Except to say, that—Cesare—" delle Rovere called out to him plaintively.

Cesare stopped, then turned slowly to face him again, barely able to hide his irritation.

"Maybe we can find it in our hearts to let bygones be bygones and start fresh with one another?"

Cesare's irritation took the form of a chilling smile. "My father is reduced now to being a 'bygone', Cardinal della Rovere? Your repeated attempts to depose him? And plots to have him and my family murdered? Those _bygones_ , Cardinal?"

della Rovere shrank away from him, not comforted at all by the distance between them or the many others present about them in the Basilica. "No...no, that's not what I meant, at all, Excellency..."

"Good day, Cardinal." Cesare turned and went on his way.


	88. Precipice

Lucrezia remained in Venice at her leisure, reluctant to leave the happy company of her friend, Lady Caracciuola, who shared in detail with her the colorful account of how she met Diego Ramirez, which was about a year after she had met Cesare.

"I will not lie to you, Lucrezia, even though I knew well, and from the very beginning, that my true chance of love and a life with Cesare was a cruel, hopeless dream, I entertained it, anyway; or I should say, suffered it; silently and selfishly; he was my heartbreak, you see, to cherish as I saw fit to do. When I met Diego I spurned him because of that fact," Dorotea said through a rueful smile and a faraway look in her eyes.

"Dorotea...did you hate me?" came Lucrezia's quiet question. "You surely must have..."

Dorotea's attention was drawn squarely back upon her friend; a warm smile formed slowly upon her face in concert with her raised hand, and the decreasing pinch of her thumb and forefinger until only a sliver of space was left between them.

Lucrezia returned her friend's smile. "Thank you for being honest, Dorotea."

"Have I yet been any other way with you, my love? I am human, after all, contrary to popular belief."

"I'm so sorry, Dorotea...for all of it."

"Stop that. My love for Cesare, in spite of everything, won out easily over any ill-will that I could ever wish upon either of you. It became quite important to me that he should find his comfort in my affection toward him—and to you, Lucrezia, because of your shared torments. And it was when our friendship became truly and honestly cemented that I was able to open up to Diego, embrace a true love of my own, and give him my whole heart."

"So...he knew about you and Cesare?"

"Not at first; we were a very well-kept secret for years. I would hazard to say that, had Gian known about us, he would have never married me at all. And by the time the accusation was made against him for my abduction, he and Diego had come to quite a gentlemanly agreement, for Cesare desired to see me delivered from his Captain's jealous and cruel treatment of me, and into a safe future with the man that truly loved me."

"He is much like my father was, then...providing husbands to my mother and La Bella when the time came that he had to release them to their own lives."

"And your father came back to your mother—Cesare will do the same, Lucrezia—for you."

"No—I have told myself that lie for too long, Dorotea; wished and dreamed...hoped for it to be my truth. My truth...is Cesare sending me back to Ferrara; my truth is Cesare, gone now to beg King Louis for his paltry, most disingenuous regard and double-dealing machinations—who is the reason—along with Cesare and my dearly departed father, that my youngest son will never know the fullest depth of my love for him...but then again, I chose Alfonso, I cannot lay blame only at their feet, now, can I?"

"Lucrezia—stop doing this to yourself, please? You must stop this—I know that Cesare has not forsaken you—it is a thing most impossible for him to do."

"And how do you know, this, Dorotea? You do not; you are being a friend, and I appreciate that, but my circumstances dictate otherwise and the time is at hand that I must squarely face all of my truths. How did I let us go off on this tangent? You were telling me about your Diego—tell me more about his account of the Americas? I shall never forget the intriguing native gentleman that the Spanish Ambassador presented to my father before my marriage to Sforza. He died, I found out later, as did all of his countrymen that were brought here with him...was your Diego on the voyage where they were collected?"

"Yes, he was; and I know about the natives—our diseases were too much for them."

"Our diseases are too much for us..." Lucrezia said sadly as she thought of her father. Dorotea put a calming hand upon one of Lucrezia's. "I'm alright, my love." Lucrezia managed a brave smile at her friend. "So tell me, then—is it safe to go to such a place, Dorotea, truly?"

"Santo Domingo is well-established, Lucrezia, and Diego is known and respected there, in spite of his...other adventures, shall we say?"

The crooked little smile on Dorotea's face did nothing to calm Lucrezia's fears. "Dorotea, you and Diego, both, are far more adventurous than I have ever dared to be, and you have weathered them well—but I fear for you, my love..."

"Do not, Lucrezia; it is a good place to escape to, away from Italy and into our future. I cannot wait to anoint these shores with the blow of my kiss goodbye as I stand on the deck of my Diego's ship."

"You make it sound so wonderful that I almost wish that I could be standing beside you, Dorotea, doing the same; and I would, in earnest, if only the place that you look forward to calling home didn't seem so completely foreign to me." _Could I truly do that? For all of the wishes to leave my life and all that I know here, could I truly do it? Could I truly sail away to another world?_

Dorotea opened her mouth to speak but but closed it tightly shut again, with a strange look on her face as she watched her friend weighing, quite obviously, the possibilities of a different life.

"What?" Lucrezia asked when she became aware that Dorotea was quietly scrutinizing her.

"Just promise me, then, when you receive word that we are settled, Lucrezia, you will commandeer your way to come see me, in the same manner in which you demanded this extended retreat from Ferrara and your husband?"

"Oh, my love—that is a promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Lucrezia lingered in Venice, September turned to October; Piccolomini had been ordained, consecrated and crowned; Vannozza had returned to Rome; and Cesare had been reconfirmed as _Gonfalonier_ , and successfully negotiated Gioffre's future as the enduring Prince of Squillace.

Further, Cesare was prepared to sign a new treaty with King Louis. XII, whom he would support with all of his forces, to take Naples; while the King guaranteed that Cesare would retain possession of the States that he still held, and the promise to assist him recover all of the ones that had been re-taken by the Sons of Rome. Combined with the support of Pius III, Cesare was poised for sure success, and because of it, Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere was in a constant state of vocal lividness and histrionics. He had, indeed, hatched a plot to have Cesare killed in his apartment in Castel Sant'Angelo, and kicked himself inwardly, and every day since, for being so transparent with the Spanish Menace. Had he only known where the bastard was lodging he could have still made it happen, but Cesare had kept his whereabouts successfully secret during his short time in Rome before he departed for France. No matter, della Rovere constantly tried to comfort himself silently, for other plots were brewing and he could almost taste victory.

But another plot that had not worked was chafing him to no end.

"What happened?" he demanded furiously of the young man when he barged, without knocking, into his studio.

The one at his easel did not miss a beat of a stroke of his paintbrush upon the canvas before him.

"And good morning to you, Giuliano."

"I've been expecting your report and will tolerate your insolence not a moment longer," della Rovere said through tightly clenched teeth.

"That's because there is no report. Surely you are knowledgeable enough to understand the obvious."

"Put that fucking brush down and tell me why you have failed me so monstrously!"

Michelangelo put his brush down and turned to face the irate cardinal.

"The only monstrous thing between us, Giuliano, is your desire— _all_ of your desires," Michelangelo leveled at him through narrow eyes, yet calm of voice and demeanor.

"You will call me Cardinal! _Boy_ ," della Rovere hissed at him.

"I will call you hypocrite; I will call you a murderer of the soul—and more."

"How dare you speak such blasphemy to me! After all that I have done for you!"

Michelangelo crossed his arms about himself as a sure sniff of disgust escaped him. "Yes, you have certainly _done things_ , Giuliano, but I would never hazard to say that they have been for me."

"Enough of this! Did you or did you not fuck her?" della Rovere railed at the man.

Michelangelo gave the cardinal a contemptuous once over. "I did not."

"And why not? Borgia stands on the precipice of ruining all of Rome! I need every shred of—"

"I know what you needed," Michelangelo retorted with a sneer on his beautiful face. "The Contessa is a lady through and through; such a scheme would never have worked on her."

"Any woman can be tried, boy, and bested..."

"Yes, that appears to be your particular theory for everything, Giuliano, and your only tactic for the same. Well, the Contessa is one that you will not be able to sully, and certainly not through any assistance of mine."

"So...you openly disobeyed me and did not even approach her, is that what you're telling me?"

"Correct on all counts. I did not even dare to try it."

Della Rovere, more than undone, felt the violent urge to destroy something—anything; he went to a covered canvas, and raised the cloth, ready to strike out at whatever masterpiece he found; but his other raised hand was stilled in mid-air when he saw the subject, whose radiance beamed out at him as if it were a ray of sunlight; blinding; mesmerizing; magnificent.

It was a sketch, actually; the beginning of a painting in its surest infancy; but he was immediately moved by the visage that had been captured and by the spirit of her youth, already apparent in it, and reminiscent of the woman that had captured his heart so long ago; a gasp escaped him as his past came crashing back down on him.

"You...you had her—this sketch proves it..." He turned slowly back to Michelangelo, with eyes bearing the full weight of his fury.

"I did not," Michelangelo maintained easily.

"Liar!"

"Believe what you like. But know this: I am much of the opinion of your magnificent daughter—you will leave this woman alone; and if you ever endeavor to ensnare me in such a heinous plot again I will leave you, Giuliano."

"And. Go. Where?" della Rovere's utter being was a threat that fazed Michelangelo not one iota.

"I have been offered friendship—and lodging—with Leonardo, should I ever desire it. And I will do just that, if you try me again; but not before I expose your cruelties to me before all of Rome!"

"And who would believe you? Hmm? Your career would be finished."

"You do not control my life, Giuliano; you may banish me from Rome...besmirch my name—but my talent goes with me and will survive you; and I dare you to find another that can bring to life the works that you have commissioned of me. I know your ego—I know that your threats are empty ones, but I dare you to prove me wrong, Giuliano— _I beg you_."

della Rovere stood rooted to his spot, too incensed to move either his feet or his tongue.

"Exactly what I thought. Go away from me, Giuliano..." Michelangelo turned away from the cardinal and back to his canvas, "I have work to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I will not tolerate another defeat."

"What's wrong with you, now, Cardinal?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes—Borgia will leave straightaway for Bracciano—and asylum—for I am the only Orsini that he may still count as a friend, yes?" Gian Giordano Orsini smiled wickedly at the angry Cardinal. "The time is finally at hand, Giuliano, be assured."

"I will be assured when the Borgia Bastard is dead, Gian, and not a moment before."

"Then so be it. I'm off, then."

"Godspeed to you, Gian."

"And to you, Cardinal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later Cesare left France and was welcomed in Bracciano by his old friend, who had accompanied him on his first trip to France after Cesare had resigned the Cardinalate. Meanwhile, in Rome, it had been proclaimed in every street that all Spanish subjects serving in a foreign army were to sever their engagement or be found guilty of high treason. The proclamation cost Cesare twelve trusted Captains and three hundred soldiers. With Cesare's army so reduced, the Orsini entered Rome with their own, and with the full support of the Spanish Ambassador, sent a messenger bearing a summons for him to return immediately to Rome, appear before the Pope and the Sacred College, and give an account of his own crimes.

By the time Cesare reached Rome the word had already spread like wild fire regarding his ensuing, and quite compromised, return. When Vannozza heard the news her second heartbreak was at not being able to contact Lucrezia, for her daughter had still not informed her of her whereabouts; hurt and pride kept her from sending a missive to Alfonso to inquire further and she suffered her grief silently and alone over her son's current circumstance. She was certain, anyway, that Cardinal d'Este had sent word to Ferrara, and based on what little she did know of Alfonso, she was also certain that he would quickly, and happily, impart the news to her daughter, for at least he knew where she was. The only thing Vannozza could do at that point was worry, pray, and curse the day that Giuliano della Rovere had been born; for the plot against her son stank to high heaven of his hatred for them all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia! Lucrezia! A message for you!" It was Cardinal Bembo who came rushing at her into the dining hall. "From the Duke..." he thrust the parchment at her.

Lucrezia cracked the seal and read the short letter silently right where she stood:

_"My dearest Lucrezia,_

_You have not made your plans known to me concerning your ensuing trip to Mantua. I must advise you to stay in Venice until further word from me, and return directly home to Ferrara when father and I have deemed that it is safe to do so. At that time we will send an escort of one thousand additional soldiers, for the matter at hand is a dire one._

_I regret to inform you that your brother, His Excellency, Cesare Borgia, has been summoned to Rome to answer the charge of High Treason, before Pope Pius III and the Sacred College of Cardinals. By the time you receive this he will be there. I know that I do not have to advise you to stay away from Rome, as your life would be in peril if you were to be discovered there._

_I have no other intelligence to offer at this time; you would be surmising correctly if you were to attribute what the family does know to my brother, Ippolito. I am sorry that the information is so scant._

_Please know, my love, that my heart is with you and that I will pray for the best along with you._

_Please remember us, father, myself, and Giulio, to Giovanni. Please also extend my gratitude to Lady Caracciuola, for her continued hospitality._

_I shall be in contact again soon with arrangements for your return trip home. Should I hear anything else of importance please know that I shall forward it to you immediately._

_Until we are reunited again I remain, yours._

_Love,_

_Alfonso"_

"Dorotea..." Lucrezia felt her legs go weak and stumbled as she made to go to her friend.

"Lucrezia!"

Lucrezia was vaguely aware that Pietro was holding her. "Cesare...Cesare..." she moaned.

As if she was a dying woman Lucrezia's life flashed before her eyes; all that she could see before her was Cesare; always Cesare; from her first childhood remembrances of him, through her adolescence—and up to her last horrible moment alone with him, when she had put a blade to his throat. Overwhelmed and shocked beyond all measure, she struggled mightily to find her breath, and to call up a happier memory—any happy memory; instead, she found only darkness; and then nothing at all.


	89. Joy Where You Dare To Find It

"How in hell did he get into Rome so effortlessly!" Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere raged, "This is all falling apart!

"It was the manner of his retreat, Cardinal—"

"Were his soldiers not reduced?"

"They were, Cardinal, but what forces he had left were so skillfully echelonned that the Orsini's could not get near them—he lost not one man; his men are fiercer than even—completely undaunted by their lacking numbers and ever loyal to their leader; they are posted at all exits...at the Vatican and Castel Sant'Angelo—we cannot get to him." It was Pandolfo Petrucci reporting to della Rovere then.

"This is unheard of!"

"You are no military man, Cardinal—Borgia is a master strategist, he—"

"What is the problem with the Orsini? What more must the the Sons of Rome lose before they put this cur down once and for all?"

"They have always had much to lose—but never so much to prove, Cardinal."

"This must be the end, Pandolfo, do you hear me? The end!"

Johannes Burchart knocked briskly on della Rovere's door and waited for no invitation to enter.

"Are they ready, Burchart?"

"Ten minutes, Cardinal."

"Thank you."

Burchart was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

"I've got something for Borgia, still—have you had words with the surgeon?"

Petrucci straightened up where he stood. "I'm working on that, Cardinal."

"Well, make haste man! I want to hear a better report when this meeting is over, do you understand?"

"I do, Cardinal."

"Good. Until then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pope Pius heard the complaints and the charges of treason made against Cesare but, much to the disgust of the Consistory told them only that His Excellency would have to answer to his God alone for the crimes that been leveled against him. It was the last act of assistance he would perform for the Borgia Menace ever again, for Pandolfo Petrucci had indeed gained the ear—and the pocket—of the old Pope's surgeon, who concocted a salve containing a lethal poison that was mixed with the plaster and placed upon a wound in Piccolomini's leg.

The desired effect gained momentum quickly. By the time Cesare found himself at the head of his cavalry, facing off with the Orsini, who had been determined to take him down no matter where they found him, Pope Pius was on his deathbed within two days. The second day of which, found Cesare waiting, then hemmed in with his scant army in the Vatican garden just beyond the Torione gate, which had been breached first by fire and then the rush of the Orsini army, which outnumbered Cesare's by two-thirds. He fought valiantly on his own but was crushed to see his men so easily cut down, in a defeat both devastating and more than personal.

The condition he found the Pope in after he escaped his own capture was another crushing blow; for although the man had not been robust, he had been present; ambulating; thinking, speaking, and acting in a clear state of mind just days before. When Cesare approached him upon his bed, disheveled, grimy exhausted, and bloody from his own battle with near death, the Pope knew that he was a dying man.

"Cesare..."

"Don't try to sit up, Holiness..."

"Take this...the key...to Sant'Angelo...and a letter...to the Governor—take whomever you will to safety, Ces..." and the man passed out in a faint.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare made haste away to collect his cousin cardinals; his mother was safe, as far as he knew, and he had no other family in Rome at the time; Gioffre and Lucrezia were safe. And he still owned twelve votes in the College of Cardinal's. That night, as he met with Micheletto, the news came that Pope Pius III had died. His was one of the shortest reigns in Papal History and had lasted only twenty-six days.

"You must find my sister, Micheletto, and give her this note—" Cesare handed him a small folded square of parchment. "She is either with Giulia Capece or Dorotea—I am inclined to believe that she went to Venice, since the Lady is so well-acquainted with all of our skeletons," Cesare grunted at his friend.

"And I am inclined to agree."

They were in his old apartments at Castel Sant'Angelo, trying to plot Cesare's next move.

"She is either there or...back in Ferrara by now—certainly she did not go to Mantua—my mother still knows nothing?"

"She has not heard a word."

"She _is_ angry..."

"You will still go through with this, Cesare?"

"What other choice do I have, my friend?"

"Not many."

"Will you not change your mind?"

"I...no."

"I'm sorry, Micheletto, it is selfish of me to ask it. But...I do love you. If my sister didn't own my heart so completely, I—"

Micheletto put a finger quickly to Cesare's lips. "Don't," came his quiet, stern command.

"But it's true, Micheletto; and what an abominable time for it to be true; when I am diminished; defeated...no man for you, at all..." Cesare turned away from his friend in shame.

Though his outward countenance was unwaveringly stoic, inside his chest Micheletto's heart was dancing; he wanted Cesare with his whole heart and soul, and here he was, admitting easily...naturally...that he loved him; Micheletto didn't care about his circumstance—to say that Cesare Borgia was no man, under any circumstance, was the lie of all lies. He understood that he felt broken; that he felt like a failure; that he was striving valiantly not to drown in his defeat; but Cesare was alive; and in Rome, in the Italy and the world that they lived in—that was the true mark of a man and his strength, through and through.

Micheletto retreated from his friend and abandoned him for the nearest wall and leaned back upon it in his usual repose, with his knee bent and foot propped against it; one hand at the hilt of his sword, the other clutching at the inner sleeve of his doublet, lost in his own thoughts as he allowed Cesare to lose himself in his own; when he was ready he would come back around and Micheletto was determined not to push him, one way or the other; it had always been their way together. So he was more than surprised—surprised that he could even been caught so off guard, and surprised by Cesare, who was suddenly before him, tilting his chin up so that Micheletto's gaze would meet his own.

"We are lucky to have such large hearts, Micheletto; there is more than enough room in my own for you—if you would allow such a thing. I have been trying to resist these lips, for such a long time, for fear that...you would not believe my kiss upon them to be true...and for you alone..."

The man was positively breaking Micheletto's heart. How many times had he secretly dreamed of such a thing? And now, here he was, standing before him, with that look in his eyes...directed at him in all of their sparkling, hazel glory; boring into him, masking a sweet, boyish reticence mixed with the intoxicating, all-encompassing heat of a man's raw desire.

"I've made a mistake—" Cesare said in sudden horror as he backed slowly away from the immobile man before him, whose eyes at him seemed more than angry, and whose entire demeanor was cold and unresponsive. "You...you don't want this—you don't want me...I...I...I'm sorry, Mich—" Cesare made to turn and flee from his embarrassment, but Micheletto caught him up easily, and forcefully by the lapel of his open doublet, and gave him a little yank.

"Where do you think you're going, hmm?" came Micheletto's gruff, unsmiling question.

"Ha!" Cesare's happy little grunt was accompanied by a smile that broke across his face. Before Micheletto knew anything Cesare had him pinned against the wall and was inflicting his first sweet kiss upon him.

Micheletto had never been kissed so tenderly by another man; had never allowed it, not even with Pascal; and only with Agostino, for the first and last time on that hot September night in the cemetery. How many times had he wondered what such a kiss would be like with Cesare? And what it would feel like to lose himself in it, which Micheletto did then, with great abandon.

"So...do you like your kisses sweet, Micheletto?" Cesare managed when his lips finally released their hostage, "or savage..." and Cesare's next kiss was; and its effect reminded Micheletto of the time they'd both been blown up in the catacomb at Marino, after investigating Caterina Sforza's fake shroud; Micheletto found that he had a hard time giving any reply, at all.

"Hmm...what was that, Micheletto?" Cesare pulled him away from the wall and began undoing the stays on Micheletto's doublet, then walked him backwards toward his bedroom. "I like kissing you, Micheletto..."

"Do you?" Micheletto's voice was terse, but the little hint of a smile that formed on his face made Cesare's eyes light up more; Cesare answered back with his bigger smile through a happy nod of his head.

Cesare stopped abruptly as they neared the bed. "I...I don't know about the next part. Micheletto—be gentle with me?" The smile on Cesare's face was full of pure impish delight.

Micheletto gave him a reprimanding look and then a hard, quick swat to Cesare's arse; he pushed him forcefully down upon his platform bed and stood over him, not fooling Cesare at all with his menacing stance. "I will be whatever you want me to be...Cesare Borgia..."

"Then...I will be gentle with you..." Cesare said as he took one of Micheletto's hands and yanked him down to the bed and on top of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Micheletto?"

Both men were on their backs looking up at the paneled ceiling.

Micheletto, laying beside Cesare, turned to face him.

When Cesare felt Micheletto's eyes upon him he continued his question. "How do moments like this happen? When you are going through the worst possible devastation; the world as you know it, shattering to dust about you, like castle walls under cannon fire..." Cesare turned to face his friend. "How are such wondrous moments as this one born from such chaos and destruction?"

Micheletto looked at the beautiful man laying beside him for a long while before he spoke. "I don't know."

Cesare found Micheletto's serious, but short answer amusing and a light laugh escaped him.

"Oh? You think that's amusing, do you?"

"Yes, Micheletto, I do." Cesare said softly after he grew serious again; he took a deep breath and then reluctantly looked away and up at the ceiling again. "When that little sot Alfonso died, my sister was devastated; I was devastated for her; I was devastated for myself—wishing that some other destiny awaited me—do you...remember?" he asked with difficulty.

"I remember."

"And yet, during that time...I shared with my sister the happiest four days I had yet known up to that point in my life. With all of that chaos...and disaster...and more looming ahead of us...ever ahead of us..."

Both men were silent for a long while.

"One's life cannot be all misery, hmm, Cesare? You simply take the joy where you dare to find it...be glad that it has been found."

"Is it wrong of me to speak to you about my sister, Micheletto?"

"I love you both. We are...a strange trio, hmm?"

"Is that what we are? Yes, I think that you are correct. I...cannot imagine my life without her in it, Micheletto. Nor can I imagine my life...without you." Cesare looked over at his friend tentatively from the corner of his eye, almost afraid to see the reaction he might have garnered, then quickly back at the ceiling. "I have a confession to make."

Micheletto said nothing, only waited.

"That was not the first time that I envisioned...wished...another destiny for myself, Micheletto, and I never knew how to tell you; worse, I never asked what other destiny you ever envisioned for your own self; what you wanted for yourself."

"Are you asking me now?"

"Yes."

"Because?"

Cesare turned his head to face his friend again. "What do _you_ want out of this life, Micheletto?"

Micheletto turned his head to meet Cesare's gaze upon him. "You have just given me what I wanted most, Cesare Borgia...even if you never give it to me again."

"What if I want to."

Micheletto looked away from him again. "Your sister might have a slight problem with that."

"Don't turn away from me—" Cesare sat up and dared to turn Micheletto's face back in his direction, " _I_ have an enormous problem with people that I love turning away from me."

"Do you, now..."

"I do."

"We have other things to discuss—della Rovere is coming for your twelve votes in the morning...and I must make haste to get your message to Lucrezia..."

"And we will discuss them...presently..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia? Lucrezia, my love? Wake up? Please?" Dorotea said hurriedly as she put a gentle hand to Lucrezia's shoulder and gave it a little shake, being careful not to spill any candle wax from the small candelabra in her other.

"Dorotea? Is it morning? Is something wrong with Giovanni?" The idea of that sobered Lucrezia more as she shot up to sitting.

"No, my love, nothing like that, Giovanni is fine.." but someone has just arrived and is here to see you...with an important message...here my love, your robe..."

It was the middle of the night, almost a week after the passing of Pope Pius; after that news had spread throughout Italy Lucrezia had become even more despondent over the fate of her brother, and understandably so. She imagined the worst: Cesare imprisoned within the bowels of Castel Sant'Angelo and facing execution; there had been no other news since her last message from Alfonso and each passing day only increased her distress. She knew that her days with her friend had to be coming to a sure close and she truly dreaded returning to Ferrara.

"A messenger—with news from Alfonso...and the arrangement for my transport back to Ferrara...can my week get any worse?" Lucrezia sighed as she put her feet wearily upon the floor.

"No, little sister—I come bearing news from your beloved brother."

"Micheletto? Micheletto? Oh!" Lucrezia rushed away from the bed and into his open arms.


	90. A Promise Honored

"Micheletto! Oh..." Lucrezia's tears were immediate after the silhouette of the man standing at her door became recognizable; swept up in his embrace as she was then, her soft endearments were muffled against his chest; she struggled next to steady her breathing and get out even one of the hundred questions fighting for release from her troubled mind and control of her tongue. She tore herself away from him with the intent to give voice to her truest concerns but found, suddenly, that her tongue had become a useless lump in her mouth, as her desperate eyes sought out Micheletto's under the dim light of Dorotea's candelabra.

"He is fine, little sister—come and sit..." Micheletto led her back to her bed, where he set her down upon its edge; he took his seat beside her as they clasped hands and turned to face each other. "He has made arrangements for your escape from Ferrara, Lucrezia, as he promised you that he would do."

Micheletto's quiet, intense words not only took her breath away but almost rendered Lucrezia blind and dumb—escape...from Ferrara—was at hand? But, how?

"Lucrezia—" Micheletto's voice was a stern call for her to come back to his attention; she heeded it. "So much has happened since the death of Pope Pius—"

"Twenty...twenty-six days, Micheletto...and...and my family...is ruined..." Lucrezia broke down completely, and leaned sobbing, back into him, struggling to compose herself. "He is in prison—tell me the truth, Micheletto; escape from Ferrara? Damn Ferrara, now, the only escape that I wish for is Cesare's..."

"He is not in prison, little sister, the conclave has not even begun—he's sold his twelve votes to della Rovere..."

Lucrezia looked her complete horror at Micheletto, then shot up and away from him. "della Rovere? della Rovere? If he is not in prison now he certainly will be when that Devil takes the Papal Throne! Murderer! I am correct, am I not, Micheletto? Cesare had everything to gain under Pope Pius and he then he dies so conveniently? So soon—and della Rovere dared to call my father a menace..."

"We know that he had a hand in it as surely as we know that the sun rises each day—unfortunately, we cannot prove it."

"And if you could the Consistory would not care, for the Borgias are defeated, at last. How can Cesare manage to think anything of me now, Micheletto, let alone execute any such arrangements for me? No, I will return to Ferrara; be a proper wife to my husband, as is my fate—and use my influence to help Cesare, in any way that is possible, damn whatever my husband may feel about it!"

"Lucrezia, calm yourself, please; Cesare's plan for you has been put into play—as Lady Dorotea will attest to."

"What?" Lucrezia wheeled around to face her friend. "What?"

"I could not tell you, my love, but oh how I longed to! Your visit here was so impromptu; it was not then time to reveal a word of it to you—but that has all changed now..."

"Dorotea...your trip away with Diego?"

Dorotea nodded her head excitedly at her friend.

"I'm...I'm...to go with you, is that it?"

"Yes, my love—you and Giovanni—and Rodrigo."

"Rodrigo?" Lucrezia turned back to Micheletto. "My Rodrigo?"

Micheletto gave a solemn nod at her.

"I do not understand—what is to become of Cesare? I do not understand...he's sold his votes to della Rovere, surely he cannot be trusted to do anything—"

"No, he cannot, little sister; it is to buy time, only; Pope Pius could not protect Cesare any longer and advised him to join King Louis' army, even before he died—"

"So he goes forward, still, wi—" Lucrezia abruptly stilled her tongue. _Without me._ "With his plans, then...and he thinks that France will do any better by him than Rome? I truly do not understand, Micheletto."

"Cesare has a plan for _you_ , little sister, that he is ready to execute—if you are willing..." Micheletto said simply before he raised a hand beckoning Lucrezia to come and rejoin him on the bed; Dorotea heeded the call then by taking Lucrezia's hand to lead her back to him, smiling at Lucrezia through excited tears as she settled herself at the bedpost beside them both.

Lucrezia's disbelieving eyes darted back and forth between them, as she stood transfixed to the floor, still in shock.

"Come—sit back down beside me, so that I may impart it to you."

Lucrezia took her last, short, slow steps toward them, as if in a trance, and was finally re-seated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cesare was back in Civita Castellana, having agreed, again, to vacate Rome before and during the Conclave, and to return and treat with the new Pontiff after the election. For Cesare it was actually a matter of security, for his soldiers had been quite drastically reduced—the ones who had not been cut down finally by the Orsini just over a week before, abandoned him outright; and he knew that the assurances made by della Rovere in exchange for his twelve votes were all a sham, for the man wanted Cesare dead; if he had stayed at Castel Sant'Angelo he knew that he would simply have been a sitting duck.

Cesare was still amazed at his own self that he had convinced della Rovere so completely of his belief in his empty promises of support upon his succession to the papal throne; then again, his act was as effective as the one he had played with Paolo Orsini as they'd negotiated Sinigaglia. Truth be told it wasn't much of an act at all, for his despondent manner had been sincere in the face of his crushing and calamitous defeat. He had displayed to della Rovere just the correct mix of wounded pride, desperation, and the misdirected faith of one who knows that he is making a deal with the Devil, yet still clings to the insane expectation that some positive gain will be gotten, even if it is to be most temporary.

But what Cesare knew, in no uncertain terms, was that della Rovere absolutely could not be trusted; that upon his return to Rome his triumphant nemesis would do nothing less than deliver his Borgia hide straight to the dungeons of Castel Sant'Angelo, try him for treason and have him executed in the most heinous manner possible.

Neither did Cesare trust King Louis, for all that he wanted was to exploit Cesare's military expertise, of which the King was sure would net him Naples; after he acquired Naples Cesare knew that the fickle King was just as likely as della Rovere to renege on all of his promises and have him put to death.

Then there was his brother-in-law, the King of Spain, John III of Navarre, whose offer to have Cesare come and serve him was the most sincere, and almost desirable—but not optimal—especially for a man who, just two months before, was the undisputed Duke of the Romagna, poised to take over more lands in Tuscany and acquire the kingdom that he and his father had dreamed of.

No, it was all over; Cesare knew that to harbor denial over that sure fact would mean the end of his very life. He had conceded much in the last days since his father's death—but he was far from ready to give his enemies even the hint of that satisfaction.

Nevertheless, as Pope Pius had suggested, Cesare had sent word to King Louis that he would be greatly honored by, and accept, a position in his army; and neither man—King Louis or della Rovere—had any notion or intelligence that Cesare would do anything other than what had been agreed upon, severally, between them.

Micheletto had just entered Cesare's suite, where he had gone immediately upon his return from Venice to give his report, and found Cesare, as ever, lost deep in his thoughts; the men exchanged no verbal greetings as Cesare looked up to face the sound of the urgent footsteps headed in his direction, and the solemn man that they belonged to.

"And so she agreed?"

"After she recovered from the shock of it all, yes."

Cesare gave a relived sigh. "You still will not change your mind, Micheletto?"

"Is that what the other evening was all about, hmm, Cesare? Trying to sway my decision, was that it?"

Cesare's little smile at himself then was full of guilt. "The other night, Micheletto..." Cesare said as he took his friend a freshly-poured goblet wine, "I told you what the other night was about." He waited for Micheletto to take his goblet, then walked a short, slow, seductive journey to stand behind him. "I told you, long ago, that I cannot imagine you being born; or dying; I told you that night that I cannot imagine you not being in my life." Cesare's smile faded then; the look on his face and the quiet timbre of his voice became as grim, then, as Micheletto's own unwavering countenance.

"There is only sure death waiting for us here, and soon—I would like for us both to live long enough to see each other with grey hair growing out of our heads, Micheletto."

"Do you even understand what it is that you are asking of me, Cesare? Why do you continue with this?"

"Because it's over for me; the thing that I have always feared—it has happened—I have run out of time, Micheletto; and you deserve so much better than this. The things that I have done—there is a price to pay...for the all of the things that I have done." Cesare's last words were more than cryptic.

"The things that _we_ have done...Cesare."

"Yes...well...either way, it shall be paid—but now is not the time that I wish for either of us to reconcile that debt."

Micheletto took a quick swig from his goblet and tried hard to ignore the all-encompassing heat of his desire for the one standing so dangerously close behind him.

"The other night..it was not a ploy, Micheletto...it was a plea."

Micheletto took another hearty swig from his goblet.

Cesare came from behind him then, and faced Micheletto; he put a forceful palm to the back of Micheletto's neck suddenly, pulled him close and rested his forehead upon his friend's.

Micheletto was reminded of the moment when he had known, in no uncertain terms, that he had fallen in love with the man; it was the night that he had fulfilled Cesare's first important order—and had gained his sure and complete trust—the night that he murdered della Rovere's maid, who would have aided della Rovere in his endeavor to depose Pope Alexander upon the charge of lechery. It had been the first moment of such intimate contact between them; his heart had swelled with pride to know that he had so pleased his master; as it did with the full bloom of his desire, which he had kept secret and well-guarded from that day forward; he was reluctant, still, to give in to it fully.

"You ask much of me, Cesare Borgia." Micheletto managed to say through tightly clenched teeth.

Cesare's brown eyes, full of great sorrow and greater love, bore into Micheletto's cold, distant blue ones, which gave up nothing: not his skepticism; his hope; or his joy; and his quiet, somber reply, which sounded as both and admission and an apology, only melted Micheletto's heart further.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following week the Papal Conclave had still not yet convened; in Ferrara, the old Duke received an urgent missive from non other than His Excellency, Cesare Borgia and was finishing it up when Alfonso came bursting into his office.

"I heard that His Excellency has sent word to you father—about what?"

"About Lucrezia...most unlike her, Alfonso..."

"What?"

"It seems that she has neither been in contact with him, which is rather understandable, given his current circumstances, or her mother, which is quite odd, don't you think, Alfonso?"

"I suppose—is that all?"

"No—he wishes for us to bring her home from Venice, straight away, before the next Conclave."

"I thought you said that he doesn't know where she is?"

"He doesn't."

"But you just said that he wants us to bring her home from Venice, father..."

"Oh," Ercole chuckled, "you know what I mean—his words, here, say _'..please bring her home safely from wherever it is that she has seen fit to journey to...'_ that's what I meant, my son."

"Is there some trouble that he's concerned about? Some danger to her that we don't know about?" 

"No...he doesn't mention as much—here, read it for yourself—" Ercole handed the letter to Alfonso and watched him read it. "I hazard to say that he has a point—all of these Conclaves—she really should be here at home while Rome continues to settle itself, hmm?" 

Alfonso hated to give voice to anything that was even remotely in agreement with the wishes of Cesare Borgia, but it was the simple truth—Lucrezia needed to come home; if she hadn't had some sort of ease n her grief over their daughter and her father at that point, well, she would have to continue the endeavor to find her peace back in Ferrara. "Yes, father, you and I both agree that she should come home." 

"Well then, let us not delay any longer, hmm? Send additional soldiers for her escort and let's bring her back, shall we?" 

"Consider it done, father." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, a spy, deposited by Micheletto in Ferrara on his way to Venice, was alerted by Cesare's messenger that he was headed away from Ferrara with the Duke's reply to His Excellence; neither of the men knew that His Excellence would not be in Civita Castellana when the messenger returned there. The messenger did not know that he would never return there—for the spy's order from Micheletto had been to kill the messenger before he left Ferrara, which he happily did by cracking the man's neck and slitting his throat for good measure. The spy disposed of the body; afterward he fitted a carrier pigeon with it's tiny cargo, and sent it to onward its waiting recipient posted on the outskirts of Padua, then prepared himself to leave the following morning and shadow the escort headed for Venice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Venice, Lucrezia and Dorotea were preparing for their impending departure; at that particular moment Lucrezia had just put Giovanni down for the night and was choosing which decoy belongings would be packed for the journey to Ferrara, and which ones she would truly take with her on her escape away. The task was a daunting one, for she desired to take everything with her, having had no idea when she left Ferrara that the meager belongings she had brought along were to be the last vestiges of her life in Italy that she would ever know; had she known she would have brought other items with her: Giovanni's hobby horse, his gift from his uncle; Rodrigo's first baby blanket, tucked away in a cassone that she visited often, just to bask in the fading scent of his sweet baby smell; the crushed rose that she had saved from the bouquet which she had placed upon the wall of her Beloved's crypt; so many other things she would have brought with her. Thankfully, she had brought Giovanni's lute, which he had never again allowed himself to be parted from, anyway, and the dagger that Cesare had gifted her with, encrusted still, with the blood of her first husband on its fine ivory handle. She chided herself silently, then—what was left of Italy, truly, resided in her children...her children, Giovanni, and soon, Rodrigo. The idea of it all quite literally took her breath away and she sank down, more than overwhelmed by the reality of it all, upon the edge of her bed, unable to make any further decisions. Her thoughts turned back to her meeting with Micheletto: 

_"Cesare has already sent an urgent message, to the old Duke and your husband, insisting on your return home to Ferrara during this brief lull before the conclave, if you have not done so already—a testament to Cesare's continued ignorance as to your whereabouts, yes?"_ Micheletto had nodded at her under one raised eyebrow. _"You are to be surprised by the arrival of a messenger and additional escort sent to bring you home, hmm?"_

_"I must alert Cardinal Bembo, Micheletto, he has been my champion and loyal friend all of this time..." ___

_"And if you wish for your friend to remain in the world of the living, little sister, you must do no such thing—he must not know anything about this."_

Lucrezia came back to her present. Micheletto had outlined the plan in detail: Rodrigo had already been collected from Bari under the cover of night two evenings prior; by the time the news of his disappearance reached Ferrara Rodrigo would already be in the arms of his mother, three days later, on a ship belonging to Diego Ramirez and moored off of the cost of the Adriatic Sea at Chioggia, ready to make its voyage bound for Santo Domingo. By that time, Alfonso's sad news awaiting Lucrezia upon her return would be usurped by the news that his wife had disappeared, as well, right under the nose of her escort. 

Micheletto had disclosed many honest facts about the ensuing voyage away, and one thing that frightened Lucrezia about the whole endeavor, amongst so many other worries, was that they were facing hurricane season. It was a foreign and terrifying notion to her, made more terrifying as she thought back to her mother's tale of her father and Cesare's treacherous voyage back from Elba. She was assured by Micheletto that Diego was more than a well-seasoned and expert mariner, and that, according to Diego, the worst of the season was already over. 

And then there was the thought of Cesare, who was not included in any of the plans that Micheletto had laid out to her. Yet, it was all really happening—her brother had honored his promise to see her to her freedom and to a life away from Italy; the rest of her life, which loomed large and unknown before her...and without him. 


	91. Persuasion

And so Cesare and Micheletto absconded stealthily away from Civita Castellana to an encampment on the outskirts of Padua; after the homing pigeon returned to the coop of his master, the man delivered the message to them and was then immediately garroted by Micheletto.

"They move out at sunrise, Cesare."

"Very good."

"I'm off then, to meet my man in Venice," Micheletto said as he carefully wiped his garrote clean.

"Thank him for me...for his dedicated service," Cesare smiled at him.

"Oh yes...that I will. See you on the trail then?"

"On the trail, brother."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later, camped in the woods, just beyond Dorotea's palazzo, at the designated spot, Micheletto finally received his man.

"Captain..."

"Good morning. Any news yet from Rome?"

"Nothing, Captain; we all still wait."

"How many soldiers in total now?"

"Double, Captain—twelve hundred."

"Have a seat, take your rest, hmm? There's a bit of jerky left there, if you want it...and ale..." Micheletto held up his own tankard. "Never too early for ale, eh?"

The man grinned his affirmation at Micheletto as he grabbed a tankard and filled it up from the little cask near the fire pit, then took his seat on a log; seconds later he was a dead heap upon the ground as Micheletto stood above him, carefully cleaning his gavotte; he buried the man in a waiting grave and soon after, saw the additional escort arrive for Lucrezia.

From his vantage point he watched as she bid her hostess goodbye, and the footmen load her baggage onto the diligence, then finally the procession away of her considerable escort. When they were all completely out of sight Micheletto cleared away all evidence of his presence, then headed to the rear of the palazzo to meet Dorotea.

"You are ready, my Lady?"

"I am ready, Captain, and not a moment too soon—my husband returns tomorrow."

"Has he sent you any other news?"

"Nothing."

"Well, no matter—we all know who the next Pontiff will be."

"Yes."

Princess came loping into the room then and stopped when her investigation did not end with the discovery of her favorite charge.

"What's her problem?"

"She knows that she has been left behind."

"How did Giovanni take it?"

"He was quite drowsy and unaware this morning; I fear the full impact shall hit him later."

"Well, it's only temporary, they shall be reunited on the ship; it will be hard enough to get away quietly with the boy, let alone a dog, as well."

"Yes, of course."

"It is my hope that Lucrezia will be able to manage Rodrigo."

Dorotea thought back to ill-fated reunion and its sad result so many months before.

"As is my own, but I'll be there and will do all that I can to assist her."

"That is a good thing. How does your little one fare, my Lady?"

"Very well, Micheletto, thank you for asking," Dorotea smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, well..." Micheletto was uncomfortable under her attention. "Would you like for me to wait about, my Lady? Until Diego arrives?"

"Thank you, but he really should be here any moment."

"Are you sure? I would not put it past your husband to return early. I would not want you here unprotected."

Dorotea gave it second thought, for Micheletto was correct about Gian. "I think that you have convinced me, Micheletto."

"Very good; I'll be out of sight but close by should you have need of me."

"Thank you so much, Micheletto."

He gave a bow at her and left as discreetly as he'd come. Diego Ramirez did finally arrive some ten minutes later and greeted Micheletto as he came boldly into the courtyard leading the carriage that would transport his woman and his child away to their freedom.

"Captain."

"Captain. Everything goes well?"

"Yes—this is a voyage that I've longed to make for quite some time now; we are all ready."

"Right, then. Chioggia."

"Yes, Captain, Chioggia."

"Godspeed to you."

"And to you."

Micheletto left then to catch up with the party headed for Ferrara.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first hours of Lucrezia's journey went without incident. That evening, however, Cardinal Bembo, who had stopped for only a moment to relieve himself, found himself waylaid by two hooded assailants, who drug him away, divested him of his cloak, robe, and biretta, and then tied him to a tree far off of the path, sufficiently bound, gagged, and then knocked unconscious.

"That lump should be bigger," Cesare joked Micheletto as they both looked about, making sure that they had not been observed.

"That's a good lump; a believable lump...it will grow nicely—and should keep Alfonso from hanging him."

"Yes, I suppose that you are right, my friend," Cesare said as he quickly donned the scarlet robes, then placed the biretta upon his head.

"How does it feel to be a cardinal again?"

"Like the ruse that such a thing truly is, and that all cardinal's should own up to, hmm?"

Micheletto only grunted at Cesare.

"Yes, yes, I know...you are more a man of faith than I ever was or could be, but you asked..." Cesare smiled at Micheletto; he finished himself off with Bembo's pectoral cross and then his cloak "Alright then—give me fifteen minutes...and then come for Giovanni."

Micheletto nodded as Cesare mounted Luis and headed back to the main road to catch up Lucrezia's coach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You alright there, Cardinal?" a soldier called over at Cesare; the sun had gone down making it much easier to impersonate his twin; even so, he still tilted his head in such a way to keep his face in the shadows.

"Not used to roughing it, eh, Cardinal?" another soldier taunted him through a chuckle.

Cesare nodded his head amicably, but said nothing as he passed them by and caught up with the coach, then got close enough to knock on the door; a curtain went up and Lucrezia looked through the window to find her brother grinning back at her.

"Yes, Cardinal?"

"A moment?"

"Of course—signal the driver to stop, please?"

Cesare did so and the driver stopped.

Inside the coach Lucrezia was a mess of emotions and in shock; she had been expecting Micheletto; in none of his instructions to her had he ever mentioned anything about her brother, but there he was, just feet away, beyond the coach door. However it was that she had managed not to fly out of it and into his arms was a mystery even to herself, yet she remained calm as was possible for her to do so.

Cesare went back to her window as they both heard the call to halt being heralded at the soldiers front and rear.

"May we talk a moment?"

"Certainly...and this is a good moment, Cardinal, my son needs to stretch his legs a bit..." It was a lie, and luckily, due to the late hour and long, rough ride of the road, the poor child had found it impossible to stay awake; for had he been awake he would have been calling Cesare's name and smothering his uncle with kisses and hugs. "We'll just take a small walkabout," Lucrezia said to the Captain, who had galloped back to see what the delay was. "Just down to that little copse and back, Captain?"

Cesare took Giovanni into his embrace and wrapped his cloak about the boy. "The night air is chilly, my Lady..."

"Yes, thank you, Cardinal."

"Please don't tarry too long, my Lady."

Lucrezia nodded at the Captain then headed away; at the copse Micheletto was waiting to take Giovanni; he handed them back a bundle, about the same size as the boy, for Cesare to hide inside of his cloak; the two men nodded at each other and then Micheletto looked at Lucrezia.

"What? How is this? Micheletto, you did not tell—"

"My fault, sis—my surprise," Cesare smiled at her.

"Indeed...Micheletto—your accomplice—was there a problem?"

"Worry not, little sister—all is going exactly as planned—and this one...he is safe with me," he whispered gruffly at her.

Lucrezia was only able to manage the nod of her head at him.

"Come, sis...back to the coach..."

In the few seconds that she had dared to take her eyes away from Micheletto and her son to gaze at her brother and then look back, Micheletto had already disappeared into the shadows.

"Come, sis..."

"The Cardinal shall ride the rest of the way with me, Captain," Lucrezia announced as they approached the coach.

"Very well, my Lady. You there—tether the Cardinal's horse and let us be on our way..."

Cesare was careful to keep the bundle, and his face, concealed from the Captain's view; once they were inside the coach, the Captain closed their door then signaled to the driver to resume. "Forward!"

Once they began to move Cesare, seated across from his sister, discarded the bundle, rushed across the short divide and took his seat beside her, then his sister into the crush of his embrace.

"Lucrezia...Lucrezia..." he moaned as his whole soul sank into the feel of her in his arms.

"Cesare...I'm so sorry about that night at Theo's..."

"Your upset was more than justified, sis."

"No...it wasn't."

"It was...and I understand...there is nothing to forgive you for, my love."

"Must you leave me? della Rovere will have you killed!"

"Yes, my love, but he wants a spectacle; he wants to parade me, beaten and broken, before the world—I will not allow him that...or the satisfaction of saying that I ran away from Rome affeared of him, and like a coward in the night."

"But I would gladly return to Ferrara now, Cesare, the d'Este's have influence—"

"True, my love, but they have no allegiance to me. Your endeavor to do anything in my defense or on my behalf would be a lonely one, you know this."

"And so your plan is to do what, brother? Risk capture and death just to prove a point to that Devil? Or will you escape into me? As your last resort? Will I truly be any consolation to the the kingdom that slipped out of your grasp? The thing that you wanted most?"

"I wanted _you_ most, Lucrezia! Don't you understand? Yet I am a failure—at all that I endeavored! I am a...failure, sis..."

"You are _alive_ , Cesare; that is a greater accomplishment at this moment in time, than all of your and father's previous ambitions combined—and my greatest blessing. But what am I to do with this? I know that I complained and demanded to have my freedom...and now that you have provided the means for me to attain it—I falter? I hesitate? Yes—I do. How can you expect me to find happiness, anywhere, with you here, facing your sure demise? I cannot do it."

"You must, Lucrezia..."

"I want you, Cesare, with all of my being, but I see that I cannot have you; you cling, still, to your ambition, no matter what you say to me—or to yourself—otherwise you would go with me; we would leave here, together. I cannot bear this, being your second choice, Cesare."

"What? After everything that I have done, you think that I consider you to be my second choice?"

"And still there is mother...Gioffre...and your Louise—what about them? Everything that we know is here..."

"Death—is here, Lucrezia."

"Yet you won't come with me now to escape it?"

"I won't come with you _yet_..."

"Because you have not truly given up on your ambition, Cesare."

Cesare pulled away from his sister then, took her roughly by her shoulders and held her at arm's length. "You may not understand my motives, Lucrezia; at this moment I do not really require you to; it is something that I must do for myself, I cannot explain it any better than that; I've told you before, that I am destined never to see my daughter, and it is probably better for her that I do not; Gioffre is squarely settled at Squillace; and I have mother's blessing to see you safely away from here."

"What?"

"During our brief visit at the Vatican, before I left for Civita Castellana, mother and I discussed many things, Lucrezia, including a plan for my escape should Piccolomini not make it to the Papal Throne..."

"Let me go, Cesare, you're hurting me..."

Cesare ignored her. "I assured her that was not a possibility, but she wanted a plan, nevertheless, and so I told her one—a general one: that I would see you delivered from Alfonso, with your children...and that I would leave Italy, myself, if I needed to..."

"Yes, that you would leave, but not with whom..."

"Of course, not with whom...but I assured her that you would be safe. We had the same conversation again, after your hasty departure from Theo's; I made her understand your distress over Alfonso—she all but ordered me to see you away from him—and Italy." He watched as the meaning of his words sank into her.

"But you will not leave—because you still chase your dream...father's ambitions..."

"You don't know how wrong you are, my love! So Piccolomini took the throne—and has now been murdered! Along with his demise...along with his demise..." Cesare found the next words more than hard to say, "go all of the ambitions that our father had for me, and any real hope, now, to see them completed; it has not been an easy thing to reconcile within myself, Lucrezia, that I failed our father—but I did so, long before this moment."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"All of the time that I lay in a fever, I saw Juan, as I had seen him in all of my nightmares since I killed him, Lucrezia; sneering at me; laughing at me; accusing me, always, of becoming him and what he had always been—a failure and disappointment to our father; mocking me; deriding my love for you, and all that I would give up because of you..."  


"Give up? Give up, Cesare?"

"Yes, Lucrezia, give up! I have been...forging ahead with less than half of a heart...through all of it... ever since Alfonso's death; dreading every step even as I took it; every step on the path to the kingdom that our father aspired for us...ever since Orsini Palace, when I had you all to myself and desired nothing more because it had become the only thing that I truly wanted."

"Cesare? No..."

"Yes."

"All of this time? How did you—"

"How did I go on? How did I ever accomplish any task at all? How did I triumph over anyone at all?"

Lucrezia nodded at him, stupefied.

"Even I do not know—no, I do—it was fear that drove me; fear of our father's wrath; more, fear of his disappointment in me." Cesare eased his grip upon her. "I set the Tigress free, sister, hoping that she would undo me—can you imagine that?" he said, sounding as if he did not believe himself that he had actually done so; his hands slipped away from her completely as he slouched back dejectedly into the corner of his seat.

"What?"

"The night that Micheletto came to the palace and I left you so abruptly, do you remember?"

"Of course I remember, you were so angry at me... for saying that—"

"My will was not my own—you were right, sister; but I endeavored to make it so, that night; I freed the Tigress from her prison so that she could defy me; oust me from her lands and take them back, which was very much within her power to do—so that she could change my destiny, sister, to the one that led only to you. That was the first night that Juan came to me and dared me to be him."

"But she was recaptured..."

"Yes...and set my course on the path that never found its anchor in my heart or truest my desires, ever again."

"Oh, my love..." Lucrezia began to sob lightly, "then I am the truest and only reason for all of these disappointments that you suffer now; I am the reason for your..."

"You can say it, sis—my failures. I have failed. But it is not your fault..."

"Oh, but it is, Cesare."

"It is not...I lay in a fever, separated from our father, knowing deep within myself that his end was so horribly near..." Cesare's hand went to a throbbing vein in his temple as the memory came flooding back to him of those horrible last days. "I tried to find the thread of a wisdom that had been leveled at me, that I thought, during the haze of those awful days, had come from my dead brother; I called out to him to tell me what I could not remember; of course, mine were just the rantings of a nearly dying man. It was not Juan who had given me counsel, but Niccolo Machiavelli, and I remembered that counsel too late for it to do me any good."

"And what was his counsel, brother?"

"To put my faith in the Papal Throne never more; yet, I had put all of my trust in Piccolomini, which was possible because he was a friend to Borgia; I became over-confident; I did not make the most of that fatal and very brief month; but it really matters not, for I was already out of time; and the result, now, of della Rovere's sure installation, is the final nail in the coffin formerly known as my ambition."

"But you sold him your votes...why did you—"

"A necessary evil, I assure you."

"Cardinal Sforza—"

"Will never win the seat—nor will any Borgia sympathizer, ever again, Lucrezia; Cardinal Sforza will do well to watch, carefully and diligently, his own back for the rest of his days."

"Then I will surely go back to Ferrara, Cesare..."

"What? Why on God's Earth would you do that?"

"Things have changed, Cesare, since father died; Giovanni was so happily settled in Ferrara, and there had been peace, at least, between Alfonso and I...that he allowed me this time away—things have changed—brother?" Lucrezia put her comforting hand to the one at his temple. "He knows that I left Val Camonica in order not to incur his wrath over you...I believe that he would help me, now, to do anything possible to see you fairly treated, and—"

Cesare sat up suddenly, grabbed his sister by the wrist and gave it a rough little jerk. "If you return to him, sis, how long would that peace be in effect once he learns that you have been alone with me? Again? I know you, it is impossible for you to lie..."

"We did nothing, Cesare, I left..."

"We were together...his accusations will fly at you...his distrust of you will serve him as it always does, and cause you only sure pain; emotionally, for sure, and I fear physically, as well." His gruff words came at her in an angry rush through his gritted teeth, as his eyes bore into hers, daring her to say anything that would refute him.

Lucrezia had no response, for deep within herself she knew Cesare's words to be true.

"Exactly." He let her hand go. "You must leave here, Lucrezia, it is not a question any longer."

"I...I would not leave from here, Cesare, and put mother at such risk..." Lucrezia managed to throw up as her next defense.

"She has not the details, sis..."

"But she has the general knowledge and that is bad enough, if she were to be questioned..."

"She would never give us up, sister..."

"But I fear that someone might make her try to..."

"The d'Este's wouldn't dare, Lucrezia, to do such a thing; she has Theo—more than even him, she has the favor of Felice della Rovere, who is lovingly willing, and more than able, to protect our mother from her father."

"How can you be so sure, Cesare?"

"Why do you throw up so many arguments, Lucrezia? Will you go to your own life or not?"

Lucrezia was silent again and her face was full of anguish.

"You have found more than just tolerance with him, is that it?" he grunted his disgust at her, "You want to go back to him..." he accused her.

"No, Cesare, please calm yourself, your anger is not what I wish to incite—I do not want to go back to him, but..I have found...stability, brother...for my son and myself...at last..."

"Really? So it was stability? Hmm? That sent you packing and away from Ferrara?" he asked her with great incredulity through his flaring nostrils. "Stability? That had you begging me for the funds to release you to your own life? You go back, sis, and along with all of your other woes, you would assuredly never see your Rodrigo again—"

"My Rodrigo of Naples is like your Louise, Cesare—destined to be lost to me."

"But he is not lost to you, Lucrezia! He is on his way, back to your bosom, as we speak! Have you forgotten?"

"No! But all of my wishes for escape—mean nothing if you are left here to perish, Cesare! Do not do this this thing! You have brought all of these magnificent plans to fruition—come away—with me, now! Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what? You would really go back to Alfonso? If I go ahead with my own plan you would go back to him?"

"I would have to, Cesare!"

"Secure in your truth, and that he would believe it? That our last time together was innocent?"

"Yes!"

"And what if that was a lie?" Cesare's voice became quiet and full of pure menace.

"What?"

"Whichever way either of us may go now, we must surely part—you would let that happen without—"

"No, Cesare..." Lucrezia turned her head away from his incoming kiss to her lips, "not like this, when you are so angry at me..."

"I'm not angry..."

"Cesare...please... don't..."

Cesare turned her face gently back toward him. "You don't mean those weak words, sis, I know that you don't..." he murmured at her.

Lucrezia's words were lies, for her heart had already set her body to motion and her hands to the thick tendrils of his hair as she pulled his face closer to hers and smothered his lips with her own. Soon, their clothes were flying off of their bodies; because of their cramped quarters, their lovemaking was as rugged as the ride of the coach; Lucrezia went to her knees, down upon the floor of the diligence and bent herself over the seat, then guided her brother behind herself, contortioned in such a way that kept their lips locked together even as Cesare took full possession of her.

"When will you ever learn, sister...ahh..." his first stab of love was met by the forceful crush of her glorious backside against him, "Lucrezia, Lucrezia..." he moaned his ecstasy at her as he quickly found his rhythm in hers.

"What, Cesare?" she gasped at him.

"When will you learn...how much trouble is caused...when you try to deny me?" he said between sweet, sensuous kisses and teasing bites upon her shoulder blades, "We should have had _this_ conversation..." Cesare gave her a punishing stroke, "at Val Camonica, hmm?"

"We could have this conversation every night, brother...if only you would...ohh..."

"If only I would what, my love?" he whispered into her ear as he felt the inevitable rush of his love straining for its release. "Ahh...Lucrezia...I don't want to come yet..." he grunted his loving complaint at her, struggling to endure the heavenly feel of her special embrace against the mounting pressure to release the full intensity of his desire upon her.

"Oh...Cesare...then come with me...away with me...into me...forever, my love..." she moaned her orgasmic chant at him, as if she was in prayer, her arms splayed across the seat in supplication and surrender, waiting for the loving resolution he was both eager and reluctant to give up.

Cesare's reluctance won out and he continued his carnal onslaught far beyond what he thought was his own ability.

"Will you...ride me...unh...ahh...ohh..." Cesare lavished a particularly languid stroke upon her then, which made it necessary for Lucrezia to try and catch her breath; she struggled to finish her question, "...ride me, my love...all the way to Ferrara...is that your plan? Or will you stop...unh...before we are discovered?" she managed at last, and a miraculous feat considering the intense conversation that their bodies were having with each other.

But Cesare was lost in his pleasure of her and answered her only with his lust-filled grunts and groans—and by not stopping.

Suddenly, the rocky sway of the diligence upon the road was coming to its own slow stop, then there was a knock upon the curtained window. Bathed in each other's sweat and exhaustion Cesare went quiet, but still found himself unable to release her and rocked his sister with gentle, yet still unwavering intensity.

"My Lady?" It was the captain of her escort.

"Yes?" came Lucrezia's hoarse response.

"Are you alright, my Lady?"

"I am..." Lucrezia cleared her throat, "I am, thank you."

"Very good. We will stop and encamp here for the night—it has been a long day for our additional escort..."

"Of course, I understand. Thank you, Captain."

"Very good, my Lady, good night."

"Yes, good night."

"Good...good...night...my Lady..." Cesare moaned as he finally exploded into her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They sat snuggled into each other, still naked but covered by the expanse of Cardinal Bembo's robe, and welcomed the crisp night air that seeped through the cracks around the doors of the diligence.

"I should like to do that sometime, sis," Cesare murmured at her as he gently stroked her hair.

"What, my love?"

"Ride you all of the way from one destination to another," he smiled impishly above her.

Lucrezia smiled at the thought of it, herself. "So would I, brother."

There had been a plan in place to stop the escort not more than two hours beyond Cesare and Micheletto's rendezvous point, but the Captain had saved them the trouble of implementing it. As Cesare and Lucrezia listened and waited for the soldiers to settle down for the night her truest question hung in the chilly night air between them.

"Almost, sister."

"Almost what, Cesare?"

"You have almost swayed me to abandon my cause against della Rovere."

"What will it take to convince you completely to come on with me, Cesare?" She disengaged herself and sat up to face him.

"You would still go on to Ferrara, Lucrezia, to remain near to me? You would take back up with Alfonso?"

"You know that we've both made that an impossibility now, Cesare. But if I thought for even one moment that I could lie successfully about this? Yes, Cesare...I would."

"I appreciate that, sister, but you must know that there is no help for us, any longer—not here in this Italy."

"Then why chance the risk, my love? della Rovere and the world may think whatever they damn well like—what does it matter? The only thing that matters to me is that we will be gone from here; safe; together; and no one will ever know the real truth but us, Cesare; and we will be living it, happily—our truth."

"I must have been mad, sis, to think that I could part with you again."

"Yes, Cesare..." Lucrezia smiled at him and gave his nose a reprimanding little tweak, "you must have been."

"I'm sorry, my love."

"Then...you will—"

"Come with you, my love, yes."

Lucrezia's happy, relieved tears were immediate as she drew him into her strong, thankful embrace.

"Then no more apologies, Cesare; and we should get dressed...it will be time soon to make away from here and rejoin Micheletto and Giovanni."

"Yes."

The pair began the task of doing just that; they both knew that once the soldiers had settled down for the night the Captain would be back with Lucrezia's appointed sentry, who would stand guard at her coach. Lucrezia retrieved the discarded bundle and untied it, then began to put on her disguise contained within it, which was a set of Cesare's clothing: leather breeches, a shirt, a velvet doublet, boots, cloak and a simple flat cap to hide her hair, all of it black; he re-bundled her own clothes inside of her cloak and tied it fast.

"Don't forget this on your way out, hmm?"

"I won't. Oh! What are these filthy rags, Cesare?" she asked him disgustedly when she noticed them where they had tumbled out and onto the floor.

"Gags, my love—the only evidence they will find indicating that you were here, under duress, during the hours they assumed you to be with Cardinal Bembo." Cesare finished helping her do up the most-difficult garments then took a long look at her, impressed by their handiwork. "The most beautiful 'man' in the world, surely..." he smiled at her when they were done.

"Am I?"

"You are, sis. Now—listen out, yes? You shall hear them go down—" Cesare resumed re-dressing himself.

"Yes, I know, brother, against the coach and then crashing down to the ground—how many do you think there will be?"

"At least four, maybe more—I have plenty of arrows, sis, be assured."

"With all of the tips dipped in—"

"A fine concoction of nightshade and arsenic." Cesare was done with his own clothing and turned next to Cardinal Bembo's.

"Alfonso will not be fooled by the use of such atypical Borgia poisons, Cesare—he will see through this...all of this—he will know that it was you..." she said then, through knitted brows.

"Should we care? By the time he learns of your abduction you will be beyond the Adriatic, already—"

"We, Cesare—we will be..."

"Yes, sis...we will be," he reassured her with a kiss to her cheek. "With no intelligence as to your true whereabouts or destination—he won't know where to begin to look, let alone accost us anywhere along the route after we put to sea, please don't worry, sis." He gave her another quick kiss to her cheek. "As a matter of fact," Cesare smirked at her then, "I would love nothing better than to leave this behind..." he held up the Cardinal's ruined robe, stained and already stiff with the evidence of their love.

"Cesare!"

"I would."

"Be that as it may, you absolutely cannot—put it on, now, and entertain no such further notions, brother," she scolded him.

Cesare finished off his disguise and then took her into his quick embrace. "Yes, I would—but I know that would be pure folly—I love you, Lucrezia...such weak words to describe all that I feel for you."

"And I—" But his lips were upon hers before she could finish. 

"It is time, yes?" came his tender call to action after their lips dared to part.

Left speechless by the heat still passing between them, Lucrezia was only able to nod at him. Cesare gave her a final nod and then exited the diligence.

"Ah, Cardinal—and how are our charges?" It was the Captain, who had returned with four guards in tow.

"They are tired, Captain, and welcome this respite, as do your men," Cesare said as he walked briskly away,

"Yes, this trail is not the best—where are you going, Cardinal?" the Captain called out to him.

"Duty calls, Captain, that's all..." Cesare called back to him without turning around.

"Yes, well, find yourself a spot and settle in when you return; we shall resume promptly, just before sunrise, Cardinal."

Cesare waved his affirmation at the man, never breaking his stride. He watched from the woods, then, as the men settled themselves upon their makeshift pallets and forgot him; there was no time to pitch tents; and even though thunderheads had threatened the afternoon skies, the night was a dry one, which made it an excellent night for sleeping under the stars. He saw the Captain knock on Lucrezia's door.

"My Lady?"

This time, Lucrezia opened the door to him, just enough to pop her head out. "Yes, Captain?"

"These men will guard you through the night, my Lady. Do you require anything? Either of you?"

"No, thank you, Captain; my Giovanni is already asleep and soon I shall be, as well."

"Good night, then, my Lady. We shall be up and ready to away just before sunrise."

"Thank you, Captain."

Lucrezia closed the door, put the cap upon her head and tucked all of her hair beneath it, then waited.

Soon the night was peppered with the sound of a sea of tired men, and their snores of exhaustion, some barely audible, others comically alarming and at war with the concert of the nighttime forest. Cesare sneaked back to his Luis, tethered far back from the diligence at that point and munching on some grass, as were some of the other horses.

"Sorry to disturb your late dinner, old friend, but we must away..." Cesare whispered at his Spanish beauty and walked the horse as quietly as possible out of camp. Within two hours he was back at the rendezvous point where he had met Micheletto—and had been left his crossbow and arsenal of poisoned arrows; he packed up his gear quickly and headed back to set his love to her freedom, confident in the fact that, long before sunrise, he and Lucrezia would be safely on their way to Chioggia.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The four hours that Cesare was gone almost drove Lucrezia mad; she worried that he had been found out and captured; that their plot would be discovered and that they would both be hauled back to Ferrara in chains. She tried to take comfort in the lingering smell of him, which permeated the clothes upon her person, and felt so foreign to her in their context at that moment: so equally freeing, on one hand, to be so lightly attired, yet so constraining on the other, suffocating all of her limbs so completely. Giulia Farnese told her tales of doing such a thing, and often, when she and her father had gone out into the Roman night to investigate the ills of the common people and their sorry plights; Giulia had found it exciting and quite exhilarating, to be dressed and disguised as man, but Lucrezia felt neither of those heady emotions; all she felt was fear—and the threat of Failure, which had almost taken human form in her mind, and seated himself across the coach from her, taunting her with the sorry shake of his head at her.

"I have gone mad..." she muttered to herself as she wrung her hands in her lap, "quite mad, indeed..." Her thoughts went silent. _This cannot work...he has been found out and captured, surely...della Rovere expects him in Rome after his election but damn the election—there is most-likely a bounty on his head, already...and my own..._

Just then she felt a gentle thud against her coach and heard a commotion; then another thud; then another; she heard a voice cry out in alarm, then heard a body hit the leaves upon the ground just under her window...and then silence. Seconds later Cesare opened her door and popped his head inside.

"Luis awaits us," he whispered as he took her hand and helped his sister out; she stepped carefully over her guards, who had been felled by Cesare's arrows, and saw that there were more down than the four that had been assigned to her.

"That looks like it was fun, brother," she whispered back at him.

"It was, sis..." he smiled at her sarcasm, then leaned down to whisper in her ear, "but now the real fun begins." Cesare lead her carefully away to Luis, helped her to mount him and then took off like a shot, away to their escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the Captain and his men awakened and began ready themselves to resume their journey, they found some fifteen men felled by arrows, either dead or near death; one man, holding tenaciously onto consciousness, was able to offer no information; under an almost cruel grilling by the Captain the man finally expired. In the coach they found no trace of the Duchess or her son, only two dirty strips of cloth, stained and foul with the smell of dried spit and fear, and not even one shred of evidence as to the identity of her abductors. The Captain went into a rage.

"WHERE IS THE CARDINAL?" he roared at his men.

"Disappeared as well, Captain," one bold soldier replied.

"He went for a piss before I posted her men—did anyone see him come back?" Silence from his men. "Did any of you dullards even see him leave?" More silence. "Aargh!" The Captain went to the Cardinal's horse. "Is this the same horse? He looks different..."

All of the men feared their Captain's wrath, but feared Alfonso d'Este's even more once the news got to the young Duke; upon the Captain's question a few of the soldiers thought that they noticed a difference, as well, but they all silently closed ranks around each other, for to admit to another mistake in their detail would mean hell to pay for them all.

"No, Captain, it is the same horse, I'm sure of it. Maybe the Cardinal was taken, as well, Captain?" another soldier offered.

"I want a team of four hundred: comb this trail back to our first stopping point and see if anything—and I mean ANYTHING—turns up out of the ordinary. Lieutenant Carlino—"

"Yes, Captain—" the man stepped up immediately.

"You and four hundred stay here and search every inch of this perimeter."

"Yes, Captain."

"I will take our remaining four hundred, search along the way and report back to the Duke, Goddammit!"

"Yes, Captain."

It was only a matter of hours before the first team sent back-tracking along the trail found Cardinal Bembo, wandering naked and disoriented, with a nasty gash upon his head and no coherent information to offer about his assailants.

"Fuck us all—escort him to the Captain," ordered the Ensign to a team of twenty soldiers, sure that his military career was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the news reached Alfonso d'Este that his wife and her son had disappeared without a trace on their journey back to Ferrara, Giuliano della Rovere had been elected Pope after only ten hours of deliberation; again, Ascanio Sforza had been chosen as Vice-Chancellor; immediately, before the smoke of the fumata bianca had even dissipated completely from the Sistine Chapel, the new Pope, Julius II, was calling for Cesare Borgia to surrender all of his remaining fortified places of the Romagna into his own hands.

Further, he forbade the name of Rodrigo Borgia to be spoken of again in the Holy City and especially within Saint Peter's.

"Brothers! Borgia must be forgotten!" he raged at the Consistory the night of his election. "If anyone here speaks his name again that one will be excommunicated! You must not even think of him! His memory must be forgotten; his name must be crossed out of every document and memorial; his reign must be obliterated! All paintings made of the Borgias or for them must be covered over with black crepe; their tombs—all of them—must be opened and their Borgia bodies sent back to where they came from and belong, brothers—back to Spain!

"He was the Devil! He desecrated Our Holy Mother Church as none before him ever has—We will not live in the same rooms as the Borgias lived. We want his rooms, and all others ever occupied by Borgias at Castel Sant'Angelo sealed up!

"Our vow to you all is to restore Our Holy Mother Church, and Rome, to their former glory. Our new day has finally begun. And We continue with Our next official act: all Borgia cardinals who currently desecrate Castel Sant'Angelo by their presence and under the protection of Our predecessor, are to be removed from their illegal accommodations and immediately remanded to the prison cells below it! And be held until such time as they will be tried for heresy...and treason! With the punishment of death to be rendered upon a verdict of 'guilty'!"

The Consistory cheered him.

"We Thank you, brothers, for your assistance, your support and for your valued participation in helping to bring it about the positive changes Our Holy Mother Church so desperately cries out for!"

The Consistory cheered him again as he made away to send soldiers to Civita Castellana, for he had also ordered Cesare Borgia's arrest. As the room cleared Johannes Burchardt looked up from his desk at Vice-Chancellor Sforza, who looked as pained and smug as ever.

"Is there anything wrong, Cardinal Sforza? You don't look well," the man ventured with a look of concern that did not match the lack of it in his voice.

"Nothing that a trip to the vomitorium can't cure, Burchardt," he said though a sniff of disgust before he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, when the report came back that Cesare had not been found at Civita Castellana, della Rovere went into a rage, so much so that his daughter, Felice, had been summoned to Saint Peter's to try and help in calming him down.

"Father, you know that I am not enamored of coming to this place."

"This is what you have to offer Us, daughter? These are your words of comfort?"

"What words of comfort are possible, father? Anything Borgia renders you almost imbecilic! Spittle flying out your mouth, this way and that...it is most-unbecoming," she said calmly but with certain disgust registered at him.

Standing next to the hearth, his lips pursed, and his whole body tense and ever-braced to fend off the new Pope's impending vitriol toward him, stood Ascanio Sforza, who admired the woman's honesty immensely, and her fearless dispensation of it, aimed at her father without apology. No one stood up to the man, save for Felice, who was sanctioned by love to be able to do such a thing, and himself, who simply didn't give a fuck any more and had nothing left to lose. That della Rovere had chosen him to serve as Vice-Chancellor again was simply a matter of keeping an enemy close to the vest—and in a choice seat to witness the downfall of those he had so egregiously supported in the past.

"Find him! We want the Spaniard found!" della Rovere directed his ire then at Ascanio. "We want him brought in chains before Us, to answer to every vile crime he committed under his detestable, corrupt, heinous father, and at his own free will, for they are legion! And must not go unpunished!"

"You already know that the search is on for him, Giuliano—he will either allow himself to be found or he won't."

" _Allow_? Allow himself? You must know something, Ascanio..." he accused the man.

"I know the same as you, Holiness. And also this: that this vendetta that you harbor, and all that you would do to settle it, makes you no better than the Pope that went before you; whom you claim was so evil and whom you so bitterly despise, even in death."

"What? Why, what is this you speak of, Ascanio? The Pope before Us was Pius the Third—We liked him, very well, in fact!" della Rovere let out an evil laugh.

 _You like him even better now that he's dead, you raging hypocrite._ "If there is nothing else, Holiness," Ascanio began dryly, "there are other dead horses that you have appointed me to beat and they must be tended."

"What? Do I hear dissatisfaction in your voice, Ascanio? Does your re-appointment as Vice-Chancellor not fulfill you any longer?"

"This post is a sham that I feel nothing for, Holiness, least of all dissatisfaction." With that Ascanio left them both.

"I must go, as well, father, you seem much better now."

"We were never unwell, daughter."

"That, father, is debatable."

"Felice! You dare?"

"I do, father...because I love you." Felice gave him a kiss upon his cheek. "I will tell you this for the last time—you may come to me at my palazzo, any time that you wish, father; you may scream and rant and rave to your heart's delight, and then come talk to when you have regained your senses; I know that you did not call for me, but if I am summoned here again for such a reason, know that I will not come."

"I understand daughter—but thank you for coming tonight—I mean that, my love."

"Oh, father—could you try to be _this_ man more often? I know that you are compelled to be many, but this is the one that I love the most."

"When the Borgia Menace is purged from this world, daughter, I promise to be this man every day," he smiled sweetly at her.

The look on Felice's face was one of sad realization. "Good night, father."

"Good night, my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cardinal Sforza? Wait, please?"

Felice had managed to catch up to Ascanio, who was conferencing with two other cardinals just down the hall from her father's office; he had just concluded his business and was about to go on his way.

"My Lady?"

"I apologize for him, Cardinal..."

"There's no need for that, my Lady."

"Felice...please—and may I call you Ascanio?"

"You may," he smiled at her.

"We are the only two who dare to tell him the truth about himself, Ascanio; it bonds us, I'm afraid."

"A strange yet pleasant bond, my—Felice."

"I agree," she smiled warmly at the handsome Cardinal.

"Yes, well..."

"I'm sorry, I am keeping you from—an engagement, perhaps? I did see a beautiful female Sforza cousin on my way in this evening..."

"My reputation precedes me, it seems," he smirked at her.

"I'm sorry, that was completely—overly-familiar of me."

"You intrigue me as well, my—Felice. Very hard habit to break, that one."

"Really? Are you making an advance toward me, Ascanio?" Felice challenged him.

"Returning the favor, yes."

"You flatter me."

"I don't know why, you are only one of the most enigmatic, beautiful women in Rome."

"Only one of, hmm? I'm not so flattered anymore, Ascanio."

"I hazard that your smile proves those words to be false—Felice." Ascanio stepped closer to her.

"And yours is sinfully delicious as well, Ascanio."

"Well...that would be due entirely to the fact that I am...full of sin."

"What a rare man you are, Ascanio, especially in this place, to be able to admit such a thing."

"Honest to a fault, I am—especially where my sins are concerned."

"Then I shall not keep you from her a moment longer."

"And you? Where are you off to? If I may be so bold as you. Which I like, by the way."

"Michelangelo is waiting for me..."

Ascanio raised an eyebrow at her.

"No, dear Ascanio—he waits for me as we are to visit with Contessa dei Cattanei."

That news sobered him. "Is she alright?"

His honest concern touched Felice. "She is, as far as I know. We simply wish to offer her our love and best regard...times do not seem to get better for her and I am worried after her; I hold her very dear, you know."

Ascanio dared to reach out a hand and give a soft stroke to her lovely cheek. "Yes, I know. Then I shall not keep you. May I trouble you to give her my heartfelt regard as well?"

"You may. And thank you."

"Thank _you_."

"Good night, Ascanio."

"Good night, Felice. For now."


	92. Chioggia

"Felice? Michelangelo? It is my pleasure to receive you! Please...come in..." Vannozza greeted each friend with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek. "To what do I owe, my loves?"

"Dear Contessa, we had planned already on coming to see you...but there has been—a development—at the Vatican, my love..." Felice began with great difficulty as she and Michelangelo were happily ushered in by Vannozza.

"A development?" Vannozza's smile at her friend was a bewildered one.

Michelangelo stepped up and took Vannozza's arm. "Contessa...you will need to take a seat for this...please..." he said sadly as he led her upstairs to her dinning room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bembo lay in a heap upon the filthy stone floor of the pitch black dungeon, the same one where, unbeknownst to all but Alfonso and his wife, Lucrezia had been tossed into, so many months before; he had no idea as to whether he had been confined for days or mere hours; all that he knew was that he had barely survived a savage grilling—and beating—at the hands of Alfonso d'Este, irate and more than undone at the fact that Bembo had no more information than the same scant report he had given the captain of Lucrezia's escort. The throbbing headache he still suffered from the blow to his head from his assailants on the road was then joined by other reports of pain, coming primarily from the area of his rib cage and muscles in his abdomen, as well as his swollen jaw, raising its own furious complaint; he did not know if it was broken or merely dislocated and his hand went tenderly to it to investigate; shocked by the discovery that his jaw did not register his touch he feared the worst. Suddenly, Alfonso's threats to liberate his member from his body came careening into his head; logically he knew that he would have been in greater pain, if he'd been conscious at all, but still his hands flew to his nether region to make sure that he was still intact.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Cardinal Pietro Bembo conducted the fearful inventory of his person below Castello Estense, Alfonso and Ercole were in a heated discussion above.

"Let him go, Alfonso, it is apparent that he knows nothing and was not involved in her abduction!"

"I am not so convinced, father."

"And why not? That crack upon his skull was not self-inflicted—"

"Maybe not, but part of the plan, nevertheless; he loves my wife, or have you not noticed that in all of these years, father?"

"What are you saying, Alfonso?"

"Exactly what you think that I'm saying."

"In all of this time, Alfonso, that our dear Lucrezia has been at this keep, has there ever been even one charge or hint of impropriety about her—how dare you!"

_Oh father, if you only knew the truth._

"Why do you stand there gawping at me like a fool? Do you know something that I do not?"

_Much._

"Well, who doesn't love her, you insufferable arse?" It was Giulio d'Este who had burst into his father's office then, and gave a sneer at his brother. "Yes, I've been listening outside the door and will not tolerate you besmirching the Lady another second longer! Our beloved Lucrezia and Giovanni have gone missing, and all you can think to do is level accusations of infidelity against her? I know for a fact that Bembo's love for her is courtly, forthright, and appropriate—and not the issue here. You've beat him to a pulp and for what? The man needs medical attention and your apology, Alfonso. More than that you need to be concentrating on who it is that has done this thing—no ransom demand has been made—I hate to say it...but...I fear the worst..." As sincere tears and a kerchief came to Giulio's eyes, Alfonso rolled his away from his imbecilic brother in disgust.

"Your brother is right, Alfonso..."

It was all Alfonso could do to still his tongue, for he knew exactly who had taken his wife and absconded away with her.

"WELL?" Ercole raged at his oldest son.

"And who is to say that you are not behind it all, hmm?"

"What?" Alfonso and Ercole echoed each other as they cast their surprised glances at Giulio.

"Giulio? Such an accusation against your brother? Explain yourself!" Ercole's words were full of anger, but his eyes at his son registered the sure pain in his heart that one son could issue such an accusation against the other.

"Yes...do, brother—" Alfonso dared him, his own voice cool and calm, belying the venom and menace in his eyes.

"And there it is, right there, brother—that look of murder you always wear so well. Everyone at court knows of Lucrezia's distress here, from her very first days after your marriage; everyone knows of your—congress—with Chiara...Lucia—the countless whores you hold so dearly to your heart—more than your wife!"

"Giulio—"

"No father, do not make excuses for him! What little Alfonso ever knew of love died with Anna; he has been nothing less than abominable in his treatment of Lucrezia and we all know it..."

"Every marriage has its troubles, Giulio..."

"Yes, well, father, I would not know, now would I? I have been denied my opportunity to find out about that first hand, no thanks to this loveless pig and his equally heinous cohort, Ippolito."

"That's enough, Giulio!"

"No, father! Aside from the women, flaunted so salaciously in her face, here at this very castle, there was his treatment of her after the death of the baby..."

"He was merely disappointed, Giulio, as were we all..."

"I can speak for myself, father," Alfonso interrupted them, his steely glare locked upon his accuser. "My marriage is no business of your, Giulio _Arduin_ —" he hissed at the livid man before him.

"I AM d'ESTE!"

"ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU" Ercole's voice thundered at them; he went to his two combative sons, who had advanced upon each other and were about to come to blows, then pushed them away from each other.

"You've been nice enough to her of late—for the sake of appearances, I say! I've heard you when you thought that I could not, Alfonso, for you have grown bold—and lazy—with your threats against her; I've heard you, wishing for her demise, and worse—plotting ways to make it so! You want to be rid of her and now look! Lo and behold! She has vanished!"

"You filthy, lying, BASTARD!"

Ercole, barely able to hold Alfonso off of his brother, was about to call for a guard when one came rushing through the door; it was Lieutenant Carlino, in charge of the investigation now that the captain of Lucrezia's escort had been sent to the dungeons, as well.

"My Lords—news..."

The three men took note of the ruined scarlet robe in his hands.

"We found this on the trail—" Carlino handed it to Alfonso. "And there's more—Cesare Borgia has been captured and is imprisoned in Rome at Castel Sant'Angelo as we speak."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Imprisoned? Your father has imprisoned him? My baby...stands no chance now..." Vannozza broke down into tears then and into the crush of Michelangelo's arms about her as Felice knelt down to kiss the distraught woman's hand. "He is calling for his execution, surely."

"He is, Contessa."

"How did this happen? He was at Civita Castellana—I heard no report that he had come back to Rome after Giuliano was installed, even though he ordered his arrest—I thought...I thought...I've been living on rumors, you see—I thought that he had escaped to France; it was my understanding that an offer was made by King Louis to—"

"There was an offer, my Lady; we know not, now, if Cesare planned to take it—we know not, at all, what his plans were, but...he came back to free his cousin cardinals from my father's tortuous interrogations and pending executions...but was captured himself, he and his Captain Corella," Felice imparted the the news sadly.

"And there's more, dear Contessa..." Michelangelo began tentatively.

"Oh, God in Heaven...what more?" Vannozza managed through her choked sobs.

"Lucrezia, my love; Lucrezia was called to come home by her husband; he sent extra escort to see her home, six hundred additional horse—word has come, through Cardinal d'Este, my Lady; it was the second night on the journey to Ferrara—I am so sad to report that she and Giovanni...have gone missing."

"Gone missing..." Vannozza repeated the words, sounding as if she was in a trance.

"Yes, my Lady."

"Does no one know anything? Is there any report as to who might have done such a thing?"

"No one, my Lady, that we have heard of..."

_And so he did it; it could have been no other; he honored his promise; my babies...one is safe and the other...the other shall perish..._

"My Lady?" Felice tried to rouse her, then looked worriedly up at Michelangelo. "It is too much—she must come with us, Michelangelo..."

"I agree."

"I shall go up and pack some of her belongings, yes?"

Michelangelo nodded at Felice as he continued to comfort the woman sobbing quietly in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light that streamed suddenly into the black cell hurt Bembo's eyes; as his arm went up automatically to shield himself he felt himself being yanked up and violently dragged away, up again and out of the small door; within a few more moments he found himself dumped, most unceremoniously, at the feet of Alfonso d'Este.

"This is your robe," Alfonso said through gritted teeth at the man on the floor.

Bembo's eyesight was blurred to the point where the garment in the man's hand was nothing more than a red shadow above him. "If you say so, my Lord..." Bembo managed through his drooling mouth and the pain assaulting every muscle in his body; as he tried to get up a hard kick to his ribs sent him sprawling back upon the floor of Alfonso's office, where the two men were alone.

"I've no time for games, Bembo! Admit the truth, would you, once and for all! You had her! This robe is proof!"

"I don't know what the fuck you are talking about, Alfonso! Hit me again... I shall lose my sight entirely... whatever it is there that you think condemns me...I will not be able to see it..." he slurred at him.

"What I think? I don't know what to think...I was sure that Cesare Borgia was behind it all, Lucrezia's disappearance, but he is in chains in Rome facing sure death, and not soon enough for me. So...what part did you play in it all, hmm? How was she, then? Did she please, Cardinal? You finally got your prick in her, was it worth it? For you will be dead soon, and I would like to know."

"What are you talking about?" Even though he couldn't feel his jaw Bembo felt as though it was dragging upon the ground and every word was a struggle.

Alfonso yanked him up and set him down hard upon a chair through Bembo's grunts and groans of pain.

"Has your vision cleared yet?"

"No!"

Alfonso went to a side table and poured the man a tankard full of water, then took it to him.

Bembo took it to his parched, numb lips and downed it in a messy, almost impossible gulp. "It will take more than water, man..."

"I will not waste medical attention on a dead man, Bembo, so look sharp." Alfonso gave him a few minutes to try and see straight. "The soldiers reported a man, that they took to be you, alone in the carriage with my wife and her son; the stains upon this robe prove that she had carnal relations with someone, Bembo—it was found on the trail not long after they found you...carefully wrapped within your cloak—look at it," Alfonso commanded him gruffly as he handed it over.

Bembo's vision had cleared enough, finally, to examine for himself the cassock in his hand, and was able to make out the faint traces of betrayal on a stiff patch of red satin; the twisted, crestfallen look on his face proved to Alfonso that Bembo was innocent.

"You poor fool. At least now you know the truth. God help us, both."

"No..." Bembo's disbelief was just barely a whisper.

"Yes—it was Cesare.; it has always been...Cesare. I'm off to Rome to find out where he's had her taken—and then I will kill him myself." Alfonso stormed away and out of his office. "MEDIC!" he roared before Bembo heard the march of his footsteps fade away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucrezia lay in her bed in her quarters below deck, Giovanni asleep within one arm, Rodrigo held tight to her breast by the other, trying to quell the nausea roiling in her stomach, and her worry over Cesare, which was eating away at her soul. Over and over she replayed the events in her mind that led to the very sudden change in plans and her voyage away from Italy, commencing then without him...

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"We should stop here a while, sis...Luis needs water and a graze..." Cesare dismounted and then helped his sister down from atop his horse.

"I hazard that the same can be said for me, brother," she smiled up at him when her feet touched the ground.

"Indeed," he smiled back at her and then gave a tweak to her sweet little nose. "I could ride all night; and you feel like my second skin, sis, clutching tight to me as we go—I could endure that Heaven forever...as such I forget that you are mortal, and need your rest, as well. Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive, my love, nothing at all." Lucrezia brought his head down to hers and gave him a sweet kiss.

"Be careful, sis...we have a schedule to keep; another one of those and we might find ourselves making time of another sort..." he grunted lustily as his lips came at hers again, ignoring his own warning.

"I thought you said that we had to stop this, Ce—" but he cut her off with another kiss.

"Alright...I promise to behave now," he said through a smile as his lips released hers. "I shall make us a little pallet here...are you hungry? I have biscuits and a couple of apples in my pouch..."

"No, Cesare, I'm too excited to eat anything, but thank you."

It was another mild night; Cesare spread his cloak upon a patch of grass for them. "I think that we shall have relatively smooth sailing, sis...the weather has been unseasonably fine these past nights...I hope that it holds out for us...there you are—sit, my love while I go and water Luis, hmm?"

Lucrezia nodded at him as she took her seat upon the ground, unused to the ease of just sitting down without having to accommodate billowing yards of fabric around her; still, she sat like the lady that she was, presenting an almost comical picture dressed as she was in her brother's rugged clothing.

"And now he eats..." Cesare smiled when he came back and took his seat on the ground across from her.

"How much longer before we reach Chioggia, brother?"

"Less than four hours, now...we'll be there long before noon; meet Diego and Dorotea discreetly at the inn on the outskirts of town—"

"The one run by his brother, Pedro?"

"Yes," he smiled at her.

"And then put to sea under the cover of darkness...after nightfall."

"Yes, sis. Are you excited?"

"I am afraid, Cesare—but less afraid now that I know we are going together."

"Afraid of what, sis?"

"The future, Cesare; the unknown."

"Well...that's understandable. But how wonderful is it that we go also with friends, Lucrezia? Cherished and trusted, true friends."

"Almost too good to be true, Cesare; and like a blessing; I shall have my sons—"

"Our sons."

"Yes, my love, our sons," she beamed at him, "I shall have you...and friends in the bargain. It all seems like a dream now, still; until we are safely aboard Diego's ship...I..."

"I know that you are worried, sis; I hazard that Alfonso does not have word just yet about you; by the time that he does we will be gone, Lucrezia...long gone; this time tomorrow night we will be on our way and they will all just be hearing about you and probably not even about little Rodrigo, yet..."

"I know, I keep telling myself that. I will begin to feel better once we are off of this road, brother—I don't need any rest, at all—when Luis is ready so am I."

"You are a wonder, my love; I shall never tire of telling you that."

And so they had pressed on and reached their destination two hours ahead of schedule. At the inn Lucrezia was reunited with Giovanni, beside himself with joy at seeing his dog and his brother 'Digo', whom he still remembered and was quite possessive of; and of course Dorotea and Maria. Cesare left them shortly after they were settled and headed to the docks to see Diego and Micheletto. The three men returned to sup with the rest of the party for dinner and Lucrezia found herself quite happy in her role as commoner, disguised and unknown in her drab garb, enjoying the simple food made more sumptuous because of the people at the table she was sharing it with, and the children present enjoying the meal with them; even Rodrigo was agreeable, which pleased her immensely, for Lucrezia had worried greatly over what his journey had been like and what his own upset would be once when they were reunited again. He took to her better than he had before, but she could not put much stock into it; he was but a baby still and had been recently separated from Miracella—what had that been like for him? How difficult had it been for Maria de Mila to take him over? She hadn't had a letter from Gioffre in so long and of course, her opportunity to ask him about it at Val Camonica was not to be. It would be years before Rodrigo knew her for who she really was and would love her as she did him already.

She had looked across the table then at her brother, engaged in a slightly drunken, quite playful dispute with Diego and his first mate over the size of his caravel, and had only caught the tail end of their revelry.

"It is larger than the _Pinta_!" Diego maintained after a long slug of ale. "Larger, even, than that thing you sailed to Elba on..."

"And how would I know, my good man? I've never seen the _Pinta_!" The three men roared at Cesare's joke; Micheletto, being his typical, stoic self, was unmoved by the frivolity of his comrades; he'd had as much ale as the rest of them but Lucrezia knew that he was ever on guard even as his easy repose dictated otherwise.

She thanked Cesare silently then for making it all come about. She knew that life in Santo Domingo would not be such a common affair, but she wouldn't have cared if that was the case; it was enough to know that they would be comfortable and want for nothing, but she loved what she was feeling at that moment and could see such a life for herself and her family without all of the literal trappings of wealth; an honorable life where her children would learn a trade and join a guild, even though she still aspired to see Giovanni become an esteemed and talented musician.

Lucrezia looked forward to continuing the charitable works she had enjoyed being a part of in Rome, with her mother and La Bella, for there were poor people everywhere; she determined that every person on Earth should know in life the simple joy she was feeling at that moment that stemmed from having a good meal on the table every night; having a sound roof over one's head; family and friends to share it all with; a positive future for one's children. Life, at that moment, presented more possibilities than Lucrezia had ever dared to imagine; had ever had time to imagine beyond the unending political intrigues that her world had been comprised of up to that point; she had finally begun to believe her good and blessed fortune; and dared to indulge herself in the fact that her life was to begin that evening after sundown.

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"Lucrezia?" It was Dorotea at her cabin door who brought Lucrezia then out of her memories. "May I come in?"

"Of course, my love..."

Dorotea came in, a worried look on her face. "Has your stomach settled at all, my love?"

"I'm afraid not...but at least the children seem unaffected and are sleeping through it so far—how does anyone do this on a repeated basis, Dorotea?"

"It's in my Diego's blood—I worry that he will be satisfied on dry land with only me to keep him company."

"And I know from the way that he looks at you, my beloved Dorotea, that is all that he wants."

"You are a balm for my worried soul, Lucrezia...Cesare will come back to you—I know that he will—you must not lose faith, my love."

"You have been right about everything else, Dorotea—I will not lose faith."

"That's my girl. You ring that bell should you have need of me, yes?" she said of the handbell on the table beside the bunk. "Until then I have brought you remedies from the galley—Diego swears by these...I have brought you some extra salty _focaccia_ ; and lime juice; and a ginger root to suck on, for good measure. If at any point you feel that you can stand, call for me and I'll take you above to look at the horizon, Diego says that will help you immensely," Dorotea said as she set a tray down carefully next to the handbell.

"Yes, I hope to be able to come above and do just that, my love, thank you so much."

Dorotea gave a kiss to her cheek, then broke off a bit of _focaccia_ and handed it to her. "I hope that you feel well soon, my friend. Ring the bell for me..." With that Dorotea left her.

Lucrezia nibbled on the bread and found the saltiness of it to be soothing, indeed; her thoughts drifted immediately back to the hours preceding their voyage...

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After dinner the couples separated and went to their rooms to see to the last details before their departure; Micheletto and the first mate left and went back to the ship.

Lucrezia had very little packing left to do and was free to cuddle Rodrigo; Cesare was happily taken up by Giovanni, sitting upon his lap excitedly explaining a new trick that he had taught Princess; the four of them were on the small bed, Lucrezia and Cesare sitting up shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Cesare?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I'm glad that you have had Micheletto to confide in, all of these years..." she began tentatively.

"What do you mean, sis?" he asked as he turned to face her, looking more than a touch uncomfortable.

"Don't look at me that way, I know that you both share a bond as full of love as our own; he is more than your Captain; more than your friend—more than a brother—he loves you."

"How...how...do you know this, sis?" Cesare stammered.

"Because I have seen him look at you as if with my own eyes," she said softly as she took her brother's chin into her hand.

"Mama! I'm talking to _Tio Cesare_ ," Giovanni complained.

"Yes, I know, Giovanni but mama and _Tio Cesare_ must have a word...just a moment? Princess looks lonely there—I think that she would love a visit from you now, yes?"

"I get her ready to show you her trick, _Tio Cesare_...I be right back..." Giovanni scrambled down from the bed.

"And I shall be waiting, beautiful boy," Cesare smiled at him.

"And so, sis—when...have you seen such a thing? This love...with your own eyes..."

"After Alfonso's death...at Orsini Palace. You have confided in him about us, have you not?"

Cesare gave a little snort of disgust at himself. "I did not have to. He's seen my love for you, you've seen his love for me—it seems I am the only one that has ever lived in ignorance of the obvious, and have been so oblivious to my own transparency."

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, Cesare—I am happy that you have him; the thought of Micheletto in your life to love and share your trust always gave me comfort. You have been blessed to love many; and for many to love you, brother; and to be able to love differently—and how could I ever find fault in such a thing? Look at us. Will he come with us?"

"I...have asked him, my love...and he has declined."

Lucrezia gave him a sweet kiss as she leaned delicately his way being careful with Rodrigo. "I hope that he changes his mind. Is that alright with you?"

"You continue to amaze me, sister. Is that truly alright with you?"

"Yes, my love—please try to make him understand that before we sail away from these shores, will you do that?"

"I will try, my love." Cesare said through and incredulous little guffaw at his sister.

But their idyll was cut short not long after, when Micheletto came knocking urgently on their door.

"Micheletto? What's wrong?"

Micheletto nodded for Cesare to step out of the room.

"Lucrezia, I'll just be a moment..." then he shut the door and faced his friend.

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Lucrezia took another nibble of bread. She had not been privy to their conversation in the hall, but Micheletto's report had been a dire one that had changed all of their happy plans. She wondered how her brother fared and began to pray for him, Micheletto, and all of her fool cousins who had not had the presence of mind to get far away from Rome while they had the chance to safely do so; then prayers turned to curses, upon Giuliano della Rovere for existing on Earth, poised to jeopardize her beloved's very life. Finally, spent and drowning in her own tears, she asked God to forgive her dark heart and she took up again with her prayers, as she sailed further away from the shores of Italy and her beloved Cesare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By that point Cesare had been racing back to Rome, lost in his own thoughts, and that fateful bit of news in particular, brought to him by Micheletto...

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"I have heard talk in the tavern below, Cesare—your cousin cardinals have all been arrested and are now detained in the dungeons of Castel Sant'Angelo—della Rovere will have them tried for treason and executed; it is all the talk of Italy, it seems and the news has traveled fast; he is beside himself that you are not with them awaiting the same fate."

"I'm sure. Do you know which ones? I thought that they all would have left before his election, they knew what was coming..."

"Pedro Luis de Borja Lanzol de Romaní left for Naples when we left for Civita Castellana, but his brother, Rodrigo—"

"Captain of the Palatine Guard..."

"Yes, on general principle—"

"Of being Borgia..."

"Yes; they all believed della Rovere's lies and promises of immunity, it seems."

"Others?"

"Oh yes—Amanieu d'Albret—"

"Charlotte would never forgive me if I left him to perish..."

"Julian Cesarini the Younger—"

"Girolama would never forgive me..."

"Francisco de Borja; Juan de Vera; Juan Castellar y de Borja; Francisco Galcerán de Lloris—all being tortured within inches of their lives..."

"I cannot leave them, Micheletto, to such a fate—you must know this or you wouldn't have told me."

Micheletto only nodded.

"I must get them out."

"And I must go with you." Cesare nodded at him. "Lucrezia—"

"Will be disappointed—she very much wants you to come with us, Micheletto—she understands about us."

There was no time to do anything other than believe Cesare's words, shocked though Micheletto was. "We survive this last task, Cesare Borgia, and I will most-definitely come with you."

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When Cesare had broken the news to Lucrezia about the dilemma in Rome she had flown into a rage...

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"You know what will happen if you return to Rome, Cesare! della Rovere will have you captured—and send you to your death! You cannot go! Either of you!"

"They are our family—I cannot abandon them, Lucrezia."

"Would they do the same for you, Cesare?"

"Yes, they would, sister—and they have—all the years that they served father! I will not leave them to die."

"But you will leave me to die, for that is what I will do, from worry, Cesare, and God forbid, worse."

"I will come back to you, Lucrezia; I have already spoken to Diego; he will leave his first mate here...there is another ship and he will command it and bring us both back to you—we will just meet you later, in Santo Domingo, that's all."

"We hope."

"No 'hope', sister—you must have more faith in me than that..."

"I knew that it was all too good to be true..." she muttered under her breath.

"Stop it, Lucrezia—you cannot let me leave here knowing that you have given up on me."

"I have done no such thing, Cesare, but surely—"

Cesare had grabbed her by her shoulders then and put his forehead to hers, and gave her a little shake as he stared her down. "I understand you worry, sis, and your upset, you know that I do; I cannot leave them to die; and della Rovere will not get his hands on me—that is my promise to you—and you know that I keep my promises to you, hmm?" He gave her another rousing little shake. "Yes? Lucrezia!"

"Yes, brother...that, you do."

"A kiss then, to send me on my way, and the promise of a hundred more when I return to you—"

"Yes...a lifetime more," she said weakly through her tears.

Cesare had stayed to see her off, for nothing else would help him better achieve what was set before him than to see her on the deck of the caravel sailing off to safety; he waved a final goodbye at them and watched a little longer as the Rosa Bianca sailed further out of port; by the same time the following night it would have reached the Ionian Sea; by the time Alfonso got word of her abduction Lucrezia would be even further out, and lost to the brute forever; thought gave him great comfort as he turned to his friend.

"To Rome, Micheletto."

"To Rome, Cesare."

Riding hard for two days Cesare and Micheletto reached Rome late enough to steal into Castel Sant'Angelo through the secret passages known well by them; the were crouched in the shadows at the beginning of the Aelian Bridge.

"How do we want to do this?" Micheletto asked him in a whisper.

"The usual never fails us: create a diversion, take those two the guards there out with our arrows; you behind to cover me..." Cesare whispered back.

"And inside? I would imagine their guard is heavily fortified."

"Maybe...maybe not; I'm thinking not; they have no favor in Rome; no one to object—no one inside who dares to even think of helping them escape, let alone anyone coming from the outside to their rescue—"

"Aside from us—on the off chance that they think that we're mad enough to try it, I hazard that quite a nice welcoming party might be in place," Micheletto countered.

"True. But I hazard that they don't think I care enough about my cousin cardinals to risk such an endeavor, as I have turned tail and run off to God-knows-where like a coward."

"Well...there's only one way to find out, hmm?"

"Yes, brother—only one way," Cesare grinned back at his friend.

Micheletto put on his gloves then pulled an arrow from his quiver. "After you."

Cesare gave Micheletto a strong pat upon the back and readied himself in the same manner; they crept further up the bridge for better aim, then each took out at a guard before the entrance and felled them both.

"A good start, brother."

Micheletto only grunted.

Once inside they found Cesare's suspicions to be true: the guard throughout the dungeons were extremely lax; Micheletto killed the jailer quickly and easily they found their charges easily, and freed them with the keys from the dead jailer's key ring.

"Cesare!"

"Lower your voice, Amanieu," Cesare cautioned him.

"I knew that you had not given up on us..."

"Which means some of you here thought that I had—which I will forgive, under the circumstances."

"Forgive me, then, cousin—I admit to being one those; bless you for returning to us."

"Be glad that I heard about it—it would have been the only reason for me not returning, Rodrigo, for I thought you would have all left here after the conclave." Cesare refrained from saying that he had been far away from Rome.

"Yes, we were fools to remain..."

"No matter now, Francisco. We had an easy way in—the way out may not be the same—for you—" he said to them all as Micheletto handed them each a dagger, "in case you must engage, hmm?"

"Thank you, my Lord," whispered Julian Cesarini as he took his weapon, as did the other freed cardinals.

"I heard that you were all near death..."

"Not all of us—Juan and Juan are the worst off at the moment...della Rovere has only just begun..."

"Can they walk, Francisco?"

"No, we will have to carry them out..."

"Where are they?"

"In cells around the corner...there." Francisco pointed to the left of them.

"Other prisoners?"

"Yes."

"We will have to kill them, Micheletto."

"Yes," Micheletto agreed.

"I will go with you, Captain, so that you may correctly identify our brothers."

"I remember them, Cardinal de Borja; besides, you said that they cannot walk—any man in the next room that can stand on his own is a dead man, yes?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Let me scope the area then and handle that first; when you hear my whistle come and help me with them—be prepared, from this moment forward, to succeed at killing whomever gets in your way." Micheletto nodded at all of the men seeking confirmation and got it silently in return from each one before left them; when his task was done they heard his quick whistle and went to help retrieve their badly injured brother cardinals.

"Alright, brothers—follow me..." And with that Cesare had led them all stealthily away...


	93. An Answer, Please

"Cesare Borgia—at last you are on the path to Hell—from whence you came and will now return. We know that the Devil is beside himself at the prospect of seeing you reunited with your father."

"And where we shall surely meet again, della Rovere, when your time comes," Cesare hissed at the Pontiff through his cracked, parched lips; he was bound upon a rack in the middle of the main torture chamber in the bowels of Castel Sant'Angelo; his eyes, the skin around them swollen and purple, burned with white-hot defiance at the man who stood leering down at him.

"You words mean less than nothing to Us, Cesare; save your passion for someone who gives a fuck...although...who that might be at this sorry point in your existence is a certain mystery, hmm? But, then again, you were a man of God once—maybe..." della Rovere began to pace the floor within Cesare's view; although he tapped a finger gently at his bottom lip as if he was in deep thought, he was clearly mocking his captive, "Maybe...He...would hear you now? Oh! But wait—that's right—you believe in no God, if We recall correctly?"

Cesare only glared at della Rovere. He and Micheletto had been in the chamber, left bound and naked upon their devices, waiting for three days without food or water; left to wonder when the torture would begin; left to envision the worst as to what their last moments on Earth would be comprised of.

"No response?" With a flick of his wrist della Rovere signaled to his guard manning the handle at the head of the rack to begin the increase of tension on the chains, his first order to do so. "Slowly," he ordered the man. He listened, then, with silent glee in his heart, to the song of the ratchets, singing their accusations, each click counting down a transgression in his mind, committed by the Devil bound and stretched upon the slats.

Click.

_"For being born, you Spanish Bastard Menace..."_

Click.

_"For gaining the loyalty of my own weapon and using him against me the first time..."_

Click.

_"And then a second..."_

Click.

_"For your abominable father surviving the cantarella..."_

Click.

_"For your ridiculous hundred plaster cannon!"_

Click.

_"For Forli!"_

Click.

_"For Sinigaglia!"_

Click.

_"For existing still, today, in my world!"_

In silence he raged at Cesare, and in his rage della Rovere almost forgot that he had meant to watch his nemesis for the first sign of pain, that would either intensify the grimace already upon his face or cause evidence to issue forth from his tightly-drawn lips—and got no satisfaction. Greatly angered, he gave another flick of his wrist at the guard for him to cease.

But Cesare had felt the beginning of pain, the first distress to the tendons in his arm sockets and hip joints and had willed himself to utter not even one groan attesting to it.

"Well, that was easy, wasn't it? And no matter, hmm? For that was but a tickle, Cesare. And you—" della Rovere turned to Micheletto, gagged and bound spread-eagle to a breaking wheel in the alcove of the chamber, where he had direct view of Cesare, "Oh...Captain Corella..." della Rovere closed his eyes and gave a kiss to the fingertips of one of his hands, as if he had just sampled an exquisite culinary delight, "...ah! What We have planned for you? We hazard that even you will be impressed, Captain," he laughed at the man, whose blue eyes would have turned to the color of molten fire if they had been capable, for the heat of his hatred blaring across the room at della Rovere was palpable.

"And so you shall both have a small reprieve—and a very quick and satisfying trial—for We will do what Pope Pius refused to do..." della Rovere turned back to Cesare, "and put you forward to be held accountable for every one of your black deeds, Cesare Borgia, committed against Our Holy Mother Church, Rome, the world—and most of all—ME AND MINE!"

della Rovere turned to the guard at the rack and then the other four posted about the room and at the door, "You guard these two beasts within an inch of your own lives—fail Us and your sufferings shall surpass theirs." With that della Rovere left them all to go and make preparations for their trials.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And so they got inside...set the cardinals to freedom—but were caught?"

"On the way out, my love; they had gotten to the stables and were stealing extra horses to away with...but two of the cardinals, already greatly injured and unable to walk...it took time to get them secured—too much time...the others finally made away from them, under a hail of arrows and sure pursuit, but Cesare and his Captain held the soldiers off—and then were captured..." Felice explained to Vannozza. They were at Felice's palazzo, in the anteroom of her suite while Vannozza's rooms were being prepared.

"Have you heard any other word about them, Felice?"

"No, nothing first-hand..."

"Your father—"

"Has sent no word to me, Contessa..."

"We do know, my Lady, that he is making preparations for Cesare's trial," Michelangelo supplied.

"Meaning that he is in chains...in prison..." Vannozza lamented, trying desperately to keep her worst fears, and the horrid visions in her head at bay.

"I'm afraid you are correct, Contessa; all of the old Borgia apartments are almost completely sealed-up already; knowing my father—"

"He will not contaminate any others with the presence of my son within them..." Vannozza's words were bitter and angry.

"That is a change that I can facilitate, Contessa—and when I do I will arrange for you to see him."

"As much as I would appreciate that, Felice, I would not wish to cause any distress between you and your father..."

"My father knows how I feel about you; I hazard that a visit from me at this time will come as no surprise to him; so off to Castel Sant'Angelo I go, my love." After a kiss to Vannozza's cheek Felice rose up from her seat beside her guest.

"But, Felice..."

"I leave you in the loving care of my beloved friend, here..." Felice looked to Michelangelo, who nodded at them both with a smile, "and shall return shortly with a report on your son's condition and an appointment to see him."

Vannozza's face crumbled with silent relief and unending gratitude, and she was overcome by tears and speechlessness.

Just then a servant knocked on the door.

"Yes? Come in..."

"Madonna Felice, the Contessa's rooms are ready, my Lady."

"Thank you, Rosa. Show the Contessa away?"

The young maid curtsied. "This way, Contessa."

"Go with her, Michelangelo, please, and I shall see you both shortly."

Michelangelo rose up, kissed Felice's hand goodbye, then took Vannozza's and escorted her away behind the maid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At Castel Sant'Angelo, Pope Julius was in his apartment, in conference with Vice Chancellor Sforza, and Cardinal's Raffaele Sansoni Galeotti Riario, Sisto della Rovere, Domenico Grimani, and Francisco de Remolins regarding Cesare's pending trial.

Remolins, who had feared for his own safety under the edict calling for the arrest of all Spanish subjects in Rome serving in a foreign army, had fled from Rome himself, on general principle of being a Spaniard. However, very recent contact via letter from Pope Julius, assured him that his place was safe, that he was needed, and that he would be happily welcomed back to service at Saint Peter's; indebted as he was to della Rovere, his cooperation was assured and allowed him into the inner-sanctum of brother Cardinals that della Rovere could count on to be trusted: Raffaele and Sisto, who were of his own blood; Domenico, a friend and early co-conspirator against Alexander Sixtus; and then Francisco, who genuinely feared him. The four men all knew that the Vice Chancellor was impotent within his duties, and remained close to the Pope's vest only as a matter of subjugation.

There came a knock upon della Rovere's door and it was Remolins (eager always to prove his fealty, no matter how small the task) who went to answer it. When he ushered Felice into her father's apartment, della Rovere was surprised, but happy to see her.

"Cardinals, good evening. Father."

The Cardinals all greeted her vocally in return but Vice-Chancellor Sforza, looking rather pained from where he stood in a corner, with his arms crossed about his chest, gave her only a slight nod; their eyes locked onto each other's as Felice realized that the man was more than angry.

"Daughter! We are happy to see you, but what is it that brings you here to Us so late in the evening?" Her father's greeting broke her gaze upon Cardinal Sforza, but not before she saw a sure flash of recognition in his eyes, and a condescending shake of his head as he cast his gaze away from hers and down at the floor.

"I need to speak with you about Cesare Borgia."

"What?"

Felice heard the muted verbal commotion issue forth between the other Cardinals in the room but remained undaunted by their obvious disapproval, and that of her father.

"You heard me, quite clearly."

"And what of him? He is in prison...where he belongs...until his trial."

"Are you aware that I'm hosting Contessa dei Cattanei? At my palazzo?"

"Hosting her? Hosting her? For what reason? And what has this unfortunate situation to do with Our business here?"

"Yes, father, enough of your histrionics. I would see him. Please."

"Histri—excuse Us, what?"

"Father, please, let us not play these games, you and I."

"Cardinals—would you excuse Us, please?" della Rovere asked them without taking his eyes off of his daughter.

"Gentlemen, you've heard His Holiness...let us leave..." Ascanio Sforza stepped out of his corner to herd his intrigued colleagues imperiously away.

"You dare to come here and order Us about, daughter?" della Rovere shot at Felice when they were finally alone.

"I do. But I know my way around this castle, I do not require your escort."

"Felice!"

"You will free him from the prison and move him to a room, father. Now."

"He is an enemy of the Church, Felice! An enemy of Rome and the Papal States! He is a counterfeit Duke of the Romagna no longer, his accommodations at present are those befitting the damnable criminal that he is!"

"You either remove him from prison or I will go and do it myself—and hold him under house arrest in MY palazzo until trial! Do not test me, father, you know that I will do it!" Felice's calm, cool demeanor left her then, and matched her father's explosive fury.

"AARGH!" But della Rovere knew that his daughter was bold and capable enough to do exactly as she threatened; he took his disgusted short steps to the door, where he found Cardinal Sforza waiting for them. "Call the guards, Ascanio, to retrieve Borgia—only Borgia—and remand him to rooms on the third floor for confinement; when he is secured take Madonna Felice to see him. And We want his door and the corridor leading to it lined with soldiers, do you understand?" della Rovere barked at Ascanio.

"Yes, Holiness, as you wish."

Some twenty minutes later Felice was traversing the sentry-lined corridor leading to a lonely section of rooms on the third floor and into a dank, dark, small apartment suffering obvious and long years of disuse. In the bedroom suite, on a cot beneath the dusty tatters of what was once a fully-curtained window sat Cesare Borgia, badly beaten, hunched over and threatening to fall over onto the floor in a heap at any moment.

"Cesare!" Felice rushed over to him, Ascanio right on her heels, and caught him up before he did so.

"Water! You there—your hip flask" Ascanio thundered at a guard, who rushed over and handed it to the man. "Here, Cesare...drink..."

"Leave us!" Felice commanded the four soldiers in the room; the men stood stock still, disobeying her; Felice rose up from beside Cesare, then in the capable hands of Ascanio Sforza, and faced off with them.

"This man is here now upon MY order! To disobey me now is to disobey His Holiness, Pope Julius—DO NOT make it necessary for me to report your insolence with me to him! LEAVE US!"

The soldiers left them.

"Cesare, you must drink..."

As Felice returned to her seat beside Cesare she heard Ascanio entreating him to take his sustenance, and Cesare's weak, near-silent refusals to do so.

"Cesare—your mother is with me—she wants to see you..."

"No!" he managed in a hoarse whisper.

"I will take back any message that you wish to give me, but we both know that will not be enough for her..." Felice replied delicately.

"She...mustn't see me...like this..."

"You know what strength you draw from her, Cesare; you know what strength she possesses—you need the benefit of her now...more than ever before..." Ascanio whispered at him.

"You know that I can arrange it, Cesare—let her come to you?" Felice pleaded.

"My Captain...they will kill him...long before our trials..." Cesare grunted through his pain.

"I will do what I can, Cesare, although I can make no promises..."

"I...understand, Felice...I thank you both...even if you can do...nothing else...which I fear is truly the case..."

"Oh, we can do more, Cesare, at least for you, now," Ascanio assured him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so Cesare and Micheletto's trials were set for the following week. Cesare had requested of Cardinal Sforza and Madonna Felice to give him one day only to pull himself together enough to face his mother, and secretly, to hatch a plan to free Micheletto and escape as soon thereafter as was humanly possible. It was not his wish to enjoin, in any conceivable fashion, help from his mother, Felice or Ascanio, for he would not have them implicated, but he had come up with no possible plan that could see him past a corridor lined with guards, outside of his window, beyond his door, and all the way down to the first floor, so Ascanio had imparted to him.

Meanwhile, there were others, trying desperately to figure out the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Brother, I have heard that he is on the third floor; Micheletto is being tortured in the chamber below but has given up nothing—not a word against the Borgias..."

It was Rodrigo de Borja Lanzol de Romaní, the former Palatine guard, who had escaped to Naples and was reporting to his brother, Pedro Luis, the Borgia cardinal who had made his escape to the same when Cesare left them at Castel Sant'Angelo under the Governor's protection after the death of Pope Pius.

"He came back for us—we must do the same, brother. All we need to do is get some kind of word to him—he could escape through the window—we will take out the guards posted below it...it is the only way..."

"That would be easy enough, Rodrigo, but there is the Captain...he is too heavily guarded for us to free—and I know that Cesare would not leave him to die."

"I'll go in, brother, in disguise, dressed as one of the guard; I know that I can get him out—"

"If he's not already broken, Rodrigo; he's been tortured already, and who knows now how much more? Can he even walk? If he was unhurt I would have no qualms at all, for all he needs is one free hand to wreak havoc upon the world; in a weakened state—it would be a suicide mission, at best..." Pedro Luis lamented, even as he wracked his brain for a solution.

"Well then, we shall have to ponder the possibilities on the road, brother, for we must get back to them...the trial is next week; when it is over they will be dead men."

"Then let's ride, brother..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back in Rome the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso d'Este, had arrived at the Vatican, waiting impatiently for an audience with the Pope; after an hour of being kept waiting outside of his office door, it opened to reveal Vice-Chancellor Sforza's stern countenance.

"He will see you now...come in."

Ascanio led him to where della Rovere was sitting behind his desk and then retreated to his usual corner of the room.

"Your Holiness..." Alfonso gave a bow and waited to be beckoned forward.

della Rovere gestured for him to come forth.

"Your Holiness..." Alfonso went down on one knee and kissed the Pope's ring. "Thank you for allowing me this private meeting, for my shame is without measure and your generous consideration is so greatly appreciated.

"Take your seat there, Duke," della Rovere gestured at the chair in front of his desk; Alfonso obeyed with a quickness. "Now, you say that your shame is without measure?"

"Yes, Holiness."

"Well, what else could it be, good man? You have given your love to a Borgia; trusted your heart and your home—your lands—to a Borgia. Shame? Why, We imagine that shame is only one aspect of your distress. Surely there have been issues of deceit; betrayal; breach of contract—to name but a few of the ills destined to stem from such misguided consort, Lord d'Este! These are Borgias," della Rover chuckled, "that We are talking about! Masters of deceit; master criminals—masters of murder, the whole Spanish lot of them! Count yourself lucky to be alive, Lord d'Este, for your wife, herself, is a master poisoner! And We know, sir, first hand." della Rovere had delivered his searing words with a pleasant voice and an equally pleasant smile, adding further insult to injury.

Alfonso endured the man's slights through his carefully cultivated impassive demeanor, but inside he was boiling from rage and embarrassment at being in such a predicament—and because the fucker had spoken the truth; he managed, barely, to control his anger before he spoke his next words.

"I understand that you have Borgia in chains, Holiness. I would humbly like to ask your permission to speak with him, for I believe he is involved in a plot regarding the disappearance of my wife."

"Really? So those rumors are true then, Duke? That she has gone missing?"

"Yes, Holiness."

"We have also heard, recently, that the little Duke of Bisceglie has also gone missing...abducted in the night from Bari..."

"Yes, Holiness, I have heard that news, as well."

"And you still seek to find her?"

"Yes, Holiness."

"Pardon Us, but as We have just discussed, well—may We ask you—why? Quite frankly, We do not care one way or the other about Borgia's slattern sister, Duke, We would hazard that you should not, either, hmm?"

"His Holiness may feel as He likes about the situation, nevertheless, I would like permission to question Borgia about it. For reasons purely my own but also in the best interest of my duchy."

"Your duchy. Yes, your duchy requires an heir...and for an heir your require a wife. We can better appreciate your dilemma, for this puts you in quite an untenable spot, hmm? The only path to a new wife is the one that leads from the grave of the old one...and your wife now is only missing...what a shame..."

It was all that Alfonso could do not to jump up out of his seat and throttle the man for his last, vicious, double entendre.

"Holiness, an answer please? You've a meeting with the Consistory in five minutes," Ascanio interjected, more than attuned to Alfonso's upset, appalled at della Rovere's never-ending cruelty against any and everything Borgia, and trying desperately to defuse the situation at hand.

"You dare?" della Rovere snapped at his Vice-Chancellor.

Just then a knock on the office door, as Burchardt rushed in uninvited. "Holiness—the Consistory awaits you in five minutes..." and then he was but a memory.

della Rovere comported himself under Ascanio's smug glare and Alfonso's still blank one. "Yes, then; of course, Lord d'Este, of course you may question him. Arrange it, Cardinal Sforza, and please excuse Us, Duke..." della Rovere said as he rose from his seat and headed for the door, "as you can see, duty calls."


	94. Eleven Minutes

Within her first twenty-four hours at sea the _Rosa Bianca_ passed through the Adriatic and had reached the Ionian Sea; and though Lucrezia had managed to find a measure of relief over her sea-sickness, her fears for Cesare and Micheletto had only intensified. She busied herself with caring for her two boys, both of them content to camp out with her on their bunk bed, nestled within her arms when they weren't in the galley taking a meal; looking into their cherubic little faces and seeing past their cramped quarters to the day they would feel dry land again were they only things that helped to keep her from screaming when her thoughts went back to Cesare and Micheletto, which filled every other moment that was not spent concentrating on her children.

"My love? Are you ready for your walk on deck?" It was Dorotea at her cabin door, who had made it her mission to assist Lucrezia twice a day, either to accompany her and the children to go above and view the horizon, or stay behind with them and Maria while Lucrezia went alone.

"Hello my love...I have the boys properly bundled, we shall all go, yes?"

Dorotea gave her a happy smile as Lucrezia rose up, collected her boys and headed for the door.

On deck they met Diego, who kissed his woman's cheek and then the forehead of his tired little daughter, threatening to fall asleep in her mother's arms at any moment.

"Good evening, my Ladies—and little Lords," he smiled at Lucrezia and Rodrigo, then down at Giovanni before he scooped the boy up to look out upon the nighttime horizon; he took another look at Lucrezia's worried face and dared to give her a reassuring pat upon her shoulder. "He'll be alright, my Lady..."

"You can read my mind, Captain?"

"I don't have to," came Diego's delicate reply.

"And so we are where, now? Passing Greece?"

"Yes, my lady...by this time tomorrow night we'll be passing Sicily..."

Lucrezia stared out at the dark sky and the sliver of light that was the horizon; although it calmed her queasy stomach immensely it did nothing for her heavy heart and tortured soul. "He has been captured, Captain, I'm sure of it..." she said, as if in a trance.

"Lucrezia, my love, we must remain positive..." Dorotea pleaded at her friend as she looked worriedly at Diego.

"My Lady, please—you know the task that was ahead of them...I'm sure that he has freed his cousins and that he and the Captain are simply laying low; more than likely they'll travel under the cover of night back to Chioggia, meet up with my mate, who's waiting for them, yes? I'm sure they'll be less than a week behind us to Santo Domingo..."

"I shall be praying on that, Captain," Lucrezia responded quietly, trying desperately to hold back her tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Rome, several nights later, as _Rosa Bianca_ sailed past the shores of Sicily and beyond, Alfonso d'Este was being led to see Cesare Borgia by Cardinal Sforza.

"You have ten minutes and then I shall be back to collect you," Ascanio told him tersely as he signaled the guards to unbolt Cesare's door.

"Pope Julius said that I could have all of the time that I wanted," Alfonso dismissed him in angry protest.

"Yes, and you _want_ to conclude your business in ten minutes, my Lord d'Este." The door was open then and Ascanio shoved the Duke unceremoniously through it; the door was shut in his face then as he heard the bolts and locks being done up again.

"What do you want?"

Alfonso turned slowly to the raspy voice behind him to find his foil, sitting in tatters and badly beaten, upon a filthy bunk in the middle of the dank, barely lit, depressing room.

"This room, Cesare...this grim, meager hell hole...mirrors your fall from grace completely, hmm? Yes...so fitting. To think..." Alfonso began a slow pace across the floor toward him, "that you could have ever been a rival of mine..." he spat at Cesare's feet when he finally reached him. "What do I want?" he began, his voice low and full of insult, "What do you fucking think that I want! Where is she?" Alfonso roared at Cesare.

"You mean, she didn't return home to you, Alfonso? Imagine that," Cesare mocked him, with pure and triumphant satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

"AARGH!" Alfonso lunged at him full of fury but Cesare moved quickly aside and then rose up as Alfonso went toppling ungraciously over the bunk and down to the floor.

"Looks can be deceiving, eh Alfonso?"

"You have no weapon—I will do the world a favor and kill you, Cesare Borgia—now!" Alfonso scrambled to regain his footing and his dignity; he rose up and unsheathed his sword; fueled by all of his rage Alfonso went into a spin and made his first strike against Cesare, which Cesare easily dodged; quick on his own feet Alfonso spun around to come at him again, ready to slice the man in half, but Cesare caught him mid-spin with a kick; it was clumsy front kick just below his waist, but was hard and effective enough to send Alfonso crashing to the floor and his sword sailing out of his hand; seconds later, sprawled on his back and still reeling in surprise at his under-estimation of Cesare's unseemly ability, he found found himself under Cesare's boot with the tip of his own sword pressed against his neck.

"I am beaten, Alfonso, but not nearly broken; and what will revive me? What has revived me thus far and ever? The thought of my sister, whom you shall never see again..." Cesare hissed at him. "If you had only loved her—truly loved her—I might have still been here, but not you; she's sailing away to her freedom, Alfonso, and soon I will join her...think of that with your last thoughts, hmm?"

"You Spanish bastard! You demon! I hope you both—argh!"

Cesare's foot in Alfonso's chest dug deeper as the tip of the blade threatened to do the same at his neck.

"No—not another ill word or action toward my dear sister...my love—never again, Alfonso...Santo Domingo, my love and I, that's where we'll be..." Cesare whispered down at him in a rush with a smile on his face, "but you shall not live to tell a soul about it..."

Just then they heard the door being unbolted and then opened.

"Cesare! No!" It was Ascanio, rushing at them both with guards close behind him—but it was too late...Cesare had already grasped the hilt by his two hands and thrust the sword into Alfonso's neck, then upwards into his head; four guards rushed him and pulled him away from the dead Duke.

"Shall we call for a medic, Cardinal?" another guard asked.

Ascanio looked at the man and wondered if a more complete imbecile existed on earth. "It's too late for a medic—get him out of here..." Ascanio snarled at the man.

Ascanio and Cesare waited for the guards to secure and come back with a stretcher to take Alfonso away before they spoke another word; when he was finally removed Ascanio turned to the remaining guards holding Cesare.

"All of you—leave us."

When the door closed Ascanio turned to Cesare with a look of disgust on his face.

"Did you have to kill him, Cesare?"

"Yes. I did. Self-defense, Ascanio, I promise."

"Suicide is more like it, I hazard," Ascanio harrumphed at Cesare as he looked at the blood upon the floor.

"What?'

"I told him to stay for only ten minutes—it's his own fault that he stayed for eleven."

Cesare let out a guffaw and then a little grunt at the pain coming from his cracked ribs.

"This isn't funny, Cesare."

"Well, my friend, it can't get any worse for me, now can it?"

"Your mother is coming to see you."

That news sobered Cesare. "You know that I don't want her to see me like this..."

"Madonna Felice has already arranged it—she'll be here in the morning, and you'd better pray that you'll see the morning—when Giuliano hears of this, which should be in about five more seconds, he's going to call for your head."

"Well, my friend, we shall just simply not give it to him—not yet." Cesare staggered over to a wall and slid down to the floor in a heap.

"Cesare—"

"I'll be alright..."

"I'll send a medic—"

"Send me no one—I trust no one here, aside from you, Ascanio,"

Ascanio only nodded and then turned to leave.

"Ascanio—"

Ascanio turned back to face him.

"Be careful, my friend."

Ascanio gave Cesare a wry, wicked little smile. "He won't kill me yet, Cesare—I have at least as long as you do." With that Ascanio left him.

 _Longer, my friend...I will see to it..._ Cesare vowed silently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Cardinal Ippolito d'Este the news of his brother's death spread quickly throughout Rome that very night.

"You must expedite the Beast's execution, Holiness, damn a trial!" Cardinal d'Este exploded during the emergency meeting of the Consistory called that night.

"We, more than anyone else here, brother, understand your righteous fury and desire for justice—however this Borgia spawn from Hell must get his just reward as dictated by protocol. We cannot have the people accusing the Holy Mother Church of any questionable tactics; now, more than ever before, we must have the mandate of the people. You know that if it was up to Us Borgia would have been impaled on a spike up his ass and through his skull days ago—but it is coming, brothers...his day of reckoning is coming and Our hearts go out to you and your esteemed family, Cardinal d"Este, at this horrid time."

The Consistory applauded the Pope's words.

"In the meantime, Cardinal Sforza, you may go back to the prisoner and tell him that his latest crime has brought about some very dire consequences upon his loyal Captain, hmm? And there are several more days to trial...kindly make sure to remind him of that?"

The Consistory cheered then as Ascanio left the chamber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It goes from bad to worse...what was he thinking?"

"Alfonso would have killed him, my Lady, it truly was self-defense, but none of that lot at the Vatican will remotely hear such a thing."

Ascanio had gone to see Vannozza at Felice della Rovere's palazzo after he had delivered the bad news about Micheletto's situation to Cesare.

"Does he even have until morning, Cardinal? Tell me honestly, please..."

"At least, my Lady; His Holiness is only waiting now to inform the people and hold a mock trial..."

"Well, we know how that will go...they'll be calling for my baby's head before a trial will even be held—can I not go to him tonight?" She turned her desperate eyes to her loving hostess. "Felice?"

"We could—I believe that we should—Cardinal, my father will not deny us," Felice stated boldly as she rose up from her seat beside Vannozza. "Come, Contessa, we must not delay a moment longer."

"My Lady, he is still weak and not a pleasant sight to behold; and the blood on the floor of his room is fresh..."

Cardinal Sforza, I appreciate your delicate warning, but my son is still alive, that's all that matters now."

"He's had no medical attention..."

"Then we shall bring aids...Michelangelo—"

"Yes, Felice?"

"My maid—rouse her, please, and ask her to meet me in my rooms—she is the daughter of a village witch and has knowledge of remedies to cure almost every ill—" Felice explained to everyone.

"Yes, my love." Michelangelo rushed away.

"If his injuries are so bad how on God's Earth did he manage to kill Alfonso, Cardinal?"

"I don't think that even Cesare can answer that question, my Lady..."

"Well, I thank God that he was able."

"As do I."

"I must go and collect our supplies for Cesare, Contessa and then we shall go."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cardinal Sforza escorted them directly to Castel Sant'Angelo, for Felice was in no mood to be delayed in getting Vannozza to Cesare, which would have been the sure case had she gone first to the Vatican to see her father. On the way through the door Vannozza thought that she recognized a guard there and gave him a strange look—and then he gave her a surreptitious wink of an eye as she was whisked away past him.

"Cardinal?" Vannozza whispered at Ascanio.

"Yes, my Lady?" He looked his confusion at her, "Is something wrong?" he whispered back.

"That guard at the gate—I recognize him—he is Borgia, the sandy-haired one on the left—as a matter of fact he was Captain of the guard—I thought that they were gone..."

"Then I shall find out why he has returned..." Ascanio smiled at Vannozza. "Just go on with your escort and I shall be along shortly."

Ascanio went back to the door as Felice and Vannozza went ahead without him and with the nervous guard who had allowed their admittance.

"You there—I need your assistance."

"Yes, Cardinal?"

"This way..." Ascanio led him away to an empty corridor and double-checked to make sure that they were alone before he spoke. "Rodrigo?" he whispered.

"At your service, but say no more," Rodrigo whispered back, "my brother and I are here, Cardinal—to—return a favor."

Just then two other guards passed through the corridor.

"Very well, back to your post then."

"Thank you, Cardinal." Both men scurried away in their separate directions.

While Felice dealt with the guards, worried, all of them, that they would suffer the wrath of the Pope when he found that she was there, Vannozza was in Cesare's room seeing to his wounds.

"There are many eyes and ears here, mother—I must caution you to think well before you speak."

Vannozza kissed his cheek and then opened up her bag. "Oh, my son! What has the monster done to you?"

"Not the worst that he has planned for me, mother, of that you can be sure."

Vannozza had just cleaned his torso and was applying a salve to his skin before she bandaged him up; here eyes kept going to the blood stains on the floor. "That's his blood, then...he's truly dead..."

"Yes."

"Good riddance."

"Not too much, mother, I'll need this and more..." _for Micheletto._ "I'll need more of this later," Cesare said of the unctions contained in her satchel.

"Do you know how Micheletto fares, Cesare?"

"No, but I fear the worst," was all that Cesare would admit.

Vannozza's voice dropped to its lowest possible register. "Cesare...where is Lucrezia? You saw her away from here, didn't you? And Giovanni and Rodrigo? Where, is she my love? Please tell me?"

"Yes, I will. Mother; Alfonso is no longer a threat and as long as Felice draws breath I know that she will protect you from della Rovere...but I cannot tell you that now..." he whispered back.

"Cesare, I saw your cousin on the way in...Rod—"

"Shh, mother..." he cautioned her and put a finger to her lips.

"Did you know?"

"No...but it seems that I have not been abandoned..."

"Did you have a plan, then?"

 _No, mother, I assuredly did not..._ "I was working on one—enough, now, shh..."

The sound of the bolt being lifted announced another visitor. "Vannozza, we must go..." it was Felice at the door. "Cesare, I am praying for you; your mother is staying with me—I will not let her leave until it is safe for her to do so."

"Thank you, Madonna Felice, I am eternally indebted to you."

Felice blew him a kiss and then held her hand out for Vannozza. "Contessa...Cardinal Sforza is waiting for us..."

"Then, this is goodbye..." Tears were in Vannozza's eyes; Cesare wiped them gently away with his thumbs.

"None of that—go on now with Felice to your own safety, yes?"

Vannozza tried valiantly to control her tears and her sniffles as she nodded at him; she gave a final kiss to his brow and rose to leave him.

An hour later Ascanio came to him.

"Ascanio? What is it?" Cesare asked him, alarmed by the stricken look on his face.

When the door was closed Ascanio walked over to him and spoke quietly and directly into Cesare's ear. "Did your mother tell you? About Rodrigo?"

Cesare nodded.

"I'm leaving here tonight—and so are you and your Captain, Cesare. I'm afraid we shall never see each other again."

Cesare took gentle hold of the man's neck and brought Ascanio's ear near to his own lips. "Then that pleases me, Ascanio, for it means that you are going on to your life. Thank you, friend, for being my father's—and mine."

"It was an honor and a privilege, Cesare Borgia."

"I know not to ask where you will go."

"Nor I, you...but...let us just say...thank God for cousins."

Both men smiled at each other and nodded their understanding. And then Cesare was alone.


	95. Affirmation

"She was here and no one told Us? And Vannozza de Cattanei?"

"She demanded entrance Holiness, to take the Lady to see her son; it was a brief visit and they've been gone over an hour now."

"You go too far, Ascanio!" Giuliano della Rovere blustered his full contempt at the Cardinal.

"It has been a long night, Holiness, and I'm afraid that you'll have to take up this argument with your beloved daughter; I've more details to see to regarding the disposition of the Duke's body and transport back to Ferrara," Ascanio sneered at the livid Pontiff as he turned to leave.

"Ascanio!"

"Let him go on his way, Holiness, he is seeing to everything with Cardinal d'Este, after all..." It was Sisto della Rovere counseling his uncle to calm down. "You've never explained this strange bond between Felice and that woman, but what does it matter now? She's had her visit with her son and there's nothing that she can do—Cesare Borgia is a dead man."

"Go and see that Sforza is up to what he says he is, and stay on his every move—We do not trust that Borgia-loving traitor, not at all. And We have honored Felice's wish long enough; he and his foul mother have seen each other and his current accommodations are much too fine—on your way out find Raffaele and send him to Castel Sant'Angelo with Our order to take the Beast back to the dungeon below—We want him in shackles until his trial."

"Yes, Holiness, consider it done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Felice and Vannozza had returned to Felice's palazzo and caught Michelangelo up on the events of the preceding hour.

"And so now Cesare has killed the Duke of Ferrara—"

"What? What was he doing there?"

"He came to find out where Lucrezia is, under some impression that Cesare had knowledge about her—he only knows what we all do—absolutely nothing," Vannozza managed with the just the right measure of indignation in her voice in spite of the joy in her heart at the fact that her daughter was bound on a journey to safety and her own life. She hated that her silence on the matter was necessary, for she knew that if her friends could be privy to the truth they would be happy for her and never give her up—yet she simply could not imperil their lives with such a disclosure. "Giuliano will announce it to the people of Rome with the rising sun, which shall surely hasten Cesare's trial...but the cousins are there..."

"And you saw his cousin, then? With your own eyes?"

"I did—there to aid his brother in the rescue..."

"And not a moment too soon—how did they—"

"I had no time to speak to him at length, Michelangelo, but when Cardinal Sforza escorted us out he said that they'd been back in Rome just over a day, already disguised and embedded within the castle guard; he told us only, at that point, to be ready to receive them all before sunrise, for their plans were already being put into action; the Cardinal left us then to see Cesare for the last time, to impart the plan to him..."

"And it was not possible to wait for the Cardinal? To come away with you afterward?" Michelangelo asked, fearful for Cardinal Sforza's very life.

"He had to stay, my love," Felice assured him, "but only long enough to be safely within sight until Cesare's escape; he will come here for temporary harbor, and I expect him soon; while I secret him to rooms above, Cesare and his Captain will be housed in the wine cellars below, until the Captain is well-enough to go on his way."

"From what you have both said he is almost near death—Felice, you dare to hide them both here, under your father's very nose? For so long a period of time?" Michelangelo looked from Felice to Vannozza and found that the fear on Vannozza's face mirrored his own.

"Michelangelo is right, Felice; I do appreciate this risk that you have taken upon yourself, but now, as I sit here in your home thinking about the wrath you would incur from your father—there must be somewhere else—"

"Calm yourselves, please, my loves—I know exactly what I am doing and you know that there is nowhere else, my love—what better place to hide them? My father will have all of Rome searched and beyond; he will have your home searched, Contessa, but you will be safe, here with me; he won't even think to look here, no matter my fondness for you..."

"It is especially because of your fondness for me, my love, that he might suspect—"

"And let him, dear Contessa; let him suspect and even search the premises—there are hidden passages here that even he knows nothing about, where they could easily be concealed if my father dared to do such a thing—but he will not—please trust me on that. No, what we must concentrate on now is the success of Cesare's cousins in setting him and Micheletto to freedom and their recovery to health...besides, you forget, Contessa: while my father shows me his affection in private, in his own way, his public treatment of me is a matter of very pointed indifference—he would not dare to raise such a spectacle over me, especially now, when he is trying to secure for me another husband of his choice. "

"You're sure..."

"I am."

"But, your servants, Felice—should we be worried that—"

"Contessa, my father has wronged a great many people, long before he became the Pope," Felice began sadly, "many of them found themselves at my door—and then in my employ..."

"The Madonna's loving, employ, Contessa..." Michelangelo placed a kiss upon Felice's cheek and then went to Vannozza where she sat, looking her unease at them both; he sat beside her and took one of her hands into his own comforting grasp. "One of those wronged souls was deposited here under her father's very...unloving...employ—me. I can assure you that everyone who resides under this roof holds Madonna Felice close to their hearts and that their allegiance belongs to her alone."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cardinal Sisto della Rovere did as his uncle bade him and found his cousin, Cardinal Raffaele Riario, but both men had been too late at their assigned tasks. When Cardinal della Rovere went to Santa Maria della Febbre to see how arrangements were proceeding over the disposition of Alfonso d'Este's remains he found Cardinal Sforza nowhere within site.

"Cardinal d'Este? Where is Cardinal Sforza?"

"How am I to know, Cardinal? I'm much taken up here, in case you hadn't noticed," Ippolito frowned at him. "My father...this is going to kill my father..." he muttered to himself as he looked upon the temporary coffin his brother was housed within. "Actually, I would appreciate knowing where Sforza is, myself," he began testily, "he's to help me with the selection of the Papal Guard who will escort my brother and I back to Ferrara—it will be morning soon and I need to be on the way as soon as possible, he knows this...Cardinal? Where are you going? Cardinal!" Ippolito shouted after the man, who suddenly turned tail and took off running out of the chapel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Cousin—what is going on here? Raffaele?"

della Rovere was at Castel Sant'Angelo, taking in the sheer pandemonium going on the around him on the second floor prison quarters, the courtyard beyond it, and the stricken look upon his cousin's face.

"He...he has escaped—the guards are organizing a search within and without the prison—the Captain of the Guard has only just left to...to...to inform His Holiness..."

"And you stand here like a senseless idiot?"

"I...I don't know what to do, man! He escaped through the window—he had help! We do not know how many there are, but he had help, Sisto; any who could give a report were killed, other prisoners included...the Captain was freed...the torture chamber...the passage leading away—strewn with the bodies of murdered guards, hacked to pieces, most of them decapitated and then the trail ends here—cold! They have all vanished, as if into thin air, cousin, and it only just happened! I went to his apartment—I heard his voice after I called out to him; I had the guard unlock his door to check on him for myself—and he was gone! By the time we got below—this—" the shocked man gestured about hall, thick with guards rushing past them, up and out from the cells behind and down from the third floor, the with the sweep of his nervous hand.

"Get a hold of yourself and catch yourself up with the Captain of the Guard or you'll be sorrier than you are now, Raffaele—go, man!" Sisto yelled at his cousin, which set the man quickly on his dreaded way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While Pope Julius was receiving the report of Cesare Borgia and Micheletto Corella's escape, Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, dressed as a peasant, navigated the sea of empty market stands throughout the square in Piazza Navona and had already been stealthily received by Madonna Felice, then sequestered safely in a third floor suite.

"I am happy and relieved to report that it all went according to plan, Felice; they should be here soon..."

"And I am also relieved, Ascanio, to receive you safely at my door."

"Yes, well, I'm fairly sure that I was not seen; I was gone too soon to be followed; your father should be positively apoplectic right about now..." Ascanio smiled at her as he shed his plain, tattered cloak to reveal the even shabbier disguise beneath it; he noticed Felice looking at him with admiration in her eyes nevertheless. "Yes—I should get used to these garments, I think, hmm?"

"You still cut quite a manly figure, Ascanio—even more so..." Felice purred at him, for his shirt and breeches, simple though they were, afforded a view of his physique that his fine cassock would never allow. "It is only to exile you shall go...you will not be separated from your riches and you will always be a Cardinal, no matter what my father may do—more importantly, you will have your life."

"True, my dear Felice; but my riches are not so vast; ex-communication will very much end my Cardinalate; my life, I hazard, will be worth as much as these clothes upon my back," he chuckled as he stepped closer to her.

"Ah, but you have cousins who love you, and will be happy to hold you close, yes?" Felice stepped closer to meet him and their eyes remained locked upon each other's.

"Really? How is it..." Ascanio took firm hold of Felice with his arms about her waist and pulled her lustily into him, "that I have found the one woman I would dare to ask to hold me, and allow me to hold her for the rest of my life? Now? At this impossible time? A woman...the most beautiful in Rome...whom I have not even had the great fortune of feeling her lips upon my own?"

"That can be remedied, Cardinal, very easily..."

Their faces slowly came nearer to each other and Ascanio dared to stop for a moment and tease her lips first with the graze of his own; his eyes sought permission to go on from hers, then, and found it in the form of her soft, parted, waiting lips and a hand sliding sensuously through his hair, guiding him back to her; as his lips were about to finally overtake hers there came a knock upon the door.

"Felice, they are here..." It was Michelangelo whispering gingerly through the closed door.

Ascanio released her reluctantly, his disappointment leveled at her through a wry little smirk; he gave her a bow of his head and stepped safely away from her as he clasped his hands, still hungry for the feel of her within them, dutifully behind his back. "A sign, I think, Madonna...to remind me that I should keep my pauper's hands off of you, hmm?"

"Enough of that, Ascanio—we shall resume this conversation...and soon..." she smiled wickedly at him.

"Felice?"

"Yes, I'm coming, my love..." she answered Michelangelo and then disappeared from Ascanio's sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, my God..."

It was Vannozza that Felice heard crying out in despair as she came into the wine cellar, now a makeshift hospital for the two wounded men.

"Are you two alright?" Felice asked of Pedro and Rodrigo de Borja.

"We are fine, Madonna, Rodrigo and I...a couple of scratches here and there, that's all...we are fine."

Felice turned to her maid, who was working on Micheletto. "Luisa?"

"His Excellency has a sprained ankle; several cracked ribs; several contusions...the Captain, here..." Luisa shook her head, "his left arm is broken in three places; his right arm in two; his right foot is mangled badly...surely it was the breaking wheel...another turn and it would have been crushed—by the grace of God he may be able to walk again, probably with a limp; his ribs are fractured; a patch of skin has been flayed from his calf—but they didn't take it, the monsters; various burn marks about his body; he's in and out of consciousness, out at the moment—I could go on and that's only from what is visible to the naked eye..." the woman said through gritted teeth as she continued cleansing the wound around the tibia of Micheletto's right leg. "He's going to be splinted-up good fashion, for quite some time—but he'll live, by God..."

"What can I get you, my love? Anything else?"

"I hate to burden with you the thought of any other knowing about this, but I could certainly use the help of another experienced hand—my sister can be trusted, Madonna, as well as myself—if you could get me anything, she would surely be that which I need most; the two of us together...we could bring this man back to life..." Luisa assured her.

"Then you shall have her—is she nearby?"

"Oh, yes, Madonna—she resides with my mother still; I can handle him for the moment, but a call paid at sunrise to my mother's door would not seem like anything out of the ordinary, especially a summons to come meet me."

"Then it shall be done. What can I do now?"

"The Contessa is my fine aid at the moment...I have all of the antiseptics and remedies for pain that I need for them both—we have this handled at the moment, Madonna."

Felice gave the busy woman a loving kiss to the top of her head and then one to Vannozza's cheek. "Then call for me if you need me; I shall ready Luciano to retrieve your sister, yes?"

"Very good, Madonna, thank you." Luisa looked at Vannozza, who had a question on her face. "Luciano is my son, Contessa, a groomsman here," she smiled at the worried woman. "You are all safe here with Madonna Felice, and with us," she gave Vannozza a nod. "Mind that needle, there, my Lady, I shall be setting this leg and stitching him up soon," she smiled at her.

"Oh...yes, of course..." Vannozza went back to threading the suture through the eye of the needle.

"I'm going to have a time of it, trying to keep infection at bay, but my sister and I—we've got some weapons of our own..." Luisa said as she continued working on Micheletto. "We'll put you to rights, Captain..." she said then to the unconscious man.

Some hours later, after Luisa had dressed all of the wounds about Micheletto's body, she stood up for a stretch. "That foot is what I need help with, Contessa, when my sister gets here, but when he comes to—and if he does before she arrives—I have something ready to give him for his pain. Your son naps?"

"He does..."

"Good. Excuse me, please, I need to go see to myself—that blasted time of the month..."

"Of course, Luisa," Vannozza smiled her thanks and admiration at the woman.

"And you? Are you alright? Shall I call Michelangelo in to sit with them for a moment, Contessa?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Can I bring you back anything? Water? Wine? Something to eat?"

"Water would be nice, now that you mention it."

"Done. Be back shortly. Lock me out? They did a good job with this for being in such a hurry..." Luisa said of the heavy iron latch upon the door.

Vannozza nodded her agreement and thanks as she rose to barricade the door behind her. She looked about the room after Luisa was gone; the cellar had been emptied of all of the wine stored there and four comfortable cots had been set up, two for the patients and two for their caretakers; two arm chairs had also been brought down and a small fire pit had been dug into the the dirt floor; a table had been cleared to house the medicines, Luisa's scant instruments, and a candelabra; about the room were four floor candelabras giving it more than enough light to suit their needs. She went to Cesare's cot then and roused him from his sleep.

"Cesare...wake up my love, we are alone for a moment—you must tell me where you've sent Lucrezia..." she whispered down at him.

"Mother?"

"Yes, my love, I hate to wake you, but..."

"Mother..." Cesare wiped the sleep and grogginess away from his eyes, then took his mother's hand and gave it as strong of a squeeze as he could muster. "How is Micheletto?"

"He is still unconscious, but you are both in very good hands. Lucrezia, my love?" she prodded him gently as she knelt down before him.

"Santo Domingo, mother; she and the boys sail with Dorotea Caracciuola's man, Diego Ramirez, who has been to the New World twice with Cristoforo Colombo; Captain Ramirez has been planning this trip for some time now, as he and Dorotea have a child together...the time had come to deliver her from her own brutish husband; it was the plan I made for Lucrezia long ago, thanks to Dorotea; they will be at least seventeen more days at sea, or so; when I am able I shall join them." Cesare tried to raise himself up from the cot.

"Oh, my love, no...rest yourself..."

"I was about to board with her, mother, when we heard the news about my cousins—I could not leave them."

"And they could not leave you..." Vannozza smothered her boy with happy kisses. "Alright, alright, I shall calm myself...Luisa will return shortly; thank you, my love, for telling me, you know that I shall never tell another soul—I have a place now, that I can learn about and then picture in my mind, knowing that my babies—you, Lucrezia, Giovanni and Rodrigo—are safe and together...thank you, my love, thank you."

"No more tears, mother..." Cesare said softly as he wiped some of them away from her cheeks delicately, "no more tears; the worst is over—all we need now, for me to be able to rejoice along with you, is for my Micheletto to heal and be well again..."

"Yes...he has all of my prayers, my love—will he go with you?"

Cesare smiled through his nod at his mother.

"Oh, thank God..."

On the periphery of consciousness, Micheletto heard the quiet conversation going on so very near to him and it filled his heart with joy and made it beat stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ascanio was in his dressing gown, sitting up in bed reading one of his favorite books, which was a collection of letters between Senator Publius Cornelius Tacitus and a friend, discussing the joys and strategies of dicing, Ascanio's favorite game of chance; although the sun was threatening to call forth the day he found that he could not sleep, for his brain was overloaded from the events that had spiraled out of control in the twenty-four hours past. His life in Rome was over; his career was over; he'd let Felice believe her assumption that one of his beautiful cousins had a place prepared for him, but the truth was that he had no such arrangement in place; one could be effected, to be sure, but the idea was not a pleasant one for him; he was accustomed to having his pleasure with his fine array beautiful relatives—and then sending them back on their way. Typically, that meant the return to their husbands or their betrothed, which was as he had liked it; further, none of them were independent enough to allow his extended visit, nor would any of them want to, had they been able—he was a sure enemy of the Church and would not dare to ask such a favor of any of his family under such reduced circumstances.

He had decided then to escape his worries for the moment and let Somnus go his own way and without him. Of course, his thoughts soon drifted to the Vatican and the uproar that was surely ensuing. _If Giuliano only knew..._ he smiled to himself then. He tried again to escape back into his book, but his thoughts were invaded again by the stark realities of his own precarious situation. _Read, man, since you cannot sleep, and stop thinking..._ he scolded himself. Just then he heard a knock upon his door.

"Come in."

"Ascanio—it is me." Felice entered his room quietly and locked the door behind herself. "You cannot sleep..."

"No."

"Yes, it seems not to be the night for it, where we are concerned."

Ascanio nodded as he watched her advance toward him.

"Were you waiting up for me?"

"Honestly? No. I was sure that you'd regained your senses."

"May I?" Felice gestured at the edge of the bed.

"Of course." Ascanio moved over a bit to allow her accommodation.

"Are you...alright?" Her question was a tentative one.

"I must...make plans."

"You may take as much time as you need to do so, I hope that you know that, Ascanio."

"And I thank you, for it may take some time, indeed."

Felice was hurt by his distant demeanor, courteous though he was. "Well, Ascanio, it seems that it is you who has regained his senses...please forgive my forwardness..." Felice made to rise and Ascanio caught her up easily by her wrist.

"Don't go—forgive my...coldness; I am merely a man, after all, and I do have my own worries—please sit back down?"

Felice took her seat again.

"Ever since I met Rodrigo Borgia..." Ascanio let her wrist go as he hung his head and smiled ruefully at his memories, "well, my life has never quite been the same. And as you have certainly come to find out for yourself, the Borgia do certainly have a way of getting under one's skin—and into one's heart, hmm?" he looked up at her.

"Yes, that they do," she smiled warmly back at him.

"I...would change nothing for myself, not even now; it's just that...I am at...a very definite—end. My life, as I've known it, is at an end, Felice. And I've no plan, no plan, at all. And no future. So, no...I was not waiting for you; I am not worthy enough to be waiting for you."

"This life, Ascanio..." Felice said with a faraway voice as she looked away to the sunlight beginning to stream through the window. "Do you know, that at this moment my father is hosting Gian Giordano, son of the Lord of Bracciano?"

"No, I did not; I have not been privy to Giuliano's most intimate affairs, not in all of my short days as his Vice-Chancellor."

"Well, he is courting him for me; Gian is his choice, you see, and he wishes for us to marry; I would be able to stay in Rome and the match would strengthen his bond with the Orsini and also unify them—"

"With the Colonna. And you would have to give up your freedom and your youth to the old man—"

"I wanted to be done with marriage...my first husband...was not kind. When I think of all of the counsel that I've provided my father, invaluable and correct," she began, her voice full of disgust, "yet my life is still reduced to the untenable circumstance of being only a woman! I am a force in this city, Ascanio, damn that I am twenty and unmarriageable! I thought that I was safe, finally. But no, I must be shackled, still, to a man, most certainly not for love and not even for my own gain! And I must now give birth to a man to secure even that!"

"I'm so sorry, Felice...truly..."

"And so my future is known—and an old story, yes? I do not look forward to it at all."

"We are quite a match then, are we not?"

Felice looked back at Ascanio. "I believe that we are, Ascanio. I know that I have not known you long, but if ever there was such a thing as a better half—you are surely mine. And so I have said it...I had to say it...did you mean what you said to me earlier, Ascanio? That you've found the woman you would dare to ask...to hold you?"

"I did, Felice..." The affirmation rolled easily off of his tongue.

"Then hold me now and never let go...the only way I will ever go forward into the fight that awaits me is to know that you will be in my life...and that I will be in yours. Damn Gian Giordano...damn the Orsini and Colonna—and damn my father..."

Ascanio pulled Felice into his embrace and silenced her then with his first tender kiss.


	96. I Am Not Fredo

Between Pedro Luis and Rodrigo de Borja Lanzol's combined and vast knowledge of the prison and the routine of its guards, the rescue had gone rather easily and according to plan after Cesare had escaped through the window of his apartment confines; of course, the sprain to Cesare's ankle had slowed them down a bit, but the smell of freedom that had met his nostrils, wafting through the cool night air as he landed awkwardly upon the ground, was enough to invigorate his bloodlust and his will to free his Captain, and had effectively sent all feelings of pain away from him long enough to do so. The only change in the plan was spurred by the fortuitous stroke of good luck that was their convergence that night with Contessa de Cattanei and Madonna Felice della Rovere; it involved the better solution of taking refuge at the Madonna's palazzo rather than riding that night with their compromised charges to do the same at the abandoned catacomb in Marino, where they would have hidden out during the day and traveled again by night, headed for Naples.

In the three days that Felice had received her wounded, very covert, and precious league of Vatican saboteurs, the tale of Cesare Borgia's escape from Castel Sant'Angelo had reached epic proportions; eyewitness accounts of the befuddled and shamed guards had gone from initial reports of two unknown men to a small band of soldiers still loyal to Cesare; all accounts sent the new Pontiff into heights of rage and his tongue to a stream of fantastic curses, each effect more furious and stratospheric than the last. Soon thereafter, accounts of sightings from the locals began pouring in, and then from any wayfarer that happened by from upon the road, some from earnest excitement and hysteria, and others from those looking for praise, favor, or a bit of coin—the coin, most of all—from the Papal Throne for their intelligence.

All of the reports had proven to be false and more than disappointing. After a week of such erroneous tales, and the wasted time used to investigate them, Pope Julius issued a decree that Cesare Borgia, Micheletto Corella and all persons who aided and abetted them were enemies of the Church; that all further investigation into their whereabouts of would be carried out by the Vatican alone; and that any citizen who brought to the Vatican any further false report would be considered an enemy of the Church, as well, be put to the rack, and killed.

Embarrassment ran rampant through the boiling blood in Giuliano della Rovere's every vein over the complete disappearance of Cesare Borgia, and at having been bested by his nemesis. It was from that state of Rome's collective upset that Cardinal Ippolito d'Este rode finally away to deliver his brother's body back to Ferrara.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she saw the carriage, draped in black curtains, come across the bridge and disappear into the castle proper, Marquessa Isabella Gonzaga knew then what her brother's brief communiques to Ferrara and Mantua had only barely hinted at—her brother, Alfonso, was dead. Ippolito had been careful to give no details in his short letters to her and her father, and certainly nothing corroborating the rumors and sensational news that had come from Rome on the lips of others; his simple and only instruction to her was to keep their father occupied with as many other matters as possible upon her arrival in Ferrara until he himself could get there; she had kept hoping that it was all just horrible conjecture, since Ippolito hadn't confirmed it, after all. But the carriage did confirm it and she understood why her brother had been reluctant to do the same in his letters; she rushed away from the Lion's Tower then to go and meet them both.

As soon as Ippolito laid eyes upon his sister his face crumbled and the tears began to flow.

"I'm sorry sister...I'm sorry...I know that you have heard the news...I couldn't bear to write the words—the task before me now—I'm afraid that this will do father in..."

"Brother..."

"It has been a most revolting time in Rome, these past weeks; Pope Julius is beside himself—to say that he is in a fury is an understatement; and then Alfonso came, to confront the Borgia Bastard—damn them all and especially Lucrezia! Why did he ever have to go to Rome and lay eyes upon that vile creature? She and her Borgia kin have ruined this family!" he moaned into his sister's breast.

Isabella thrust her brother away from her in angry reprimand. "Stop it, Ippolito...you must stop this—we are far from ruined..."

"We are ruined, sister—father is the last beating heart that binds our fractious family together—and our relations with the other Nobles and Papal States; he and Alfonso have held conference with the King of France, you know—" he countered in a rush, his face full of worry.

"Yes, I know, Ippolito—father is still with us—"

"It has infuriated His Holiness—everything infuriates His Holiness..."

"Ippolito—father is still with us..." she reminded him sternly.

"After he sees this carriage how much longer will that be the case, sister? The League of Cambria is only just being formed—the secret alliances taking place every day—it is mind-numbing and head-splitting..."

"And necessary, for these wars are never-ending..."

"Who will negotiate for us if father does not survive this? I know that Giulio is father's heart—but he is no diplomat! Father depended on Alfonso in all matters of State—this is a blow from which I fear he will never recover—and worse..."

"I fear the same, brother—but we must be strong, now, for father. I know that you brothers put much stock into each other, but you forget that you have a sister—who rules _with_ her husband in Mantua, and runs it better than he does, himself."

"I'm sorry, sister, forgive me; but even as capable as you are, the command of two communes?"

"I could do that and more, if I had to, brother—leave that worry until we must address it...and when we must address it—you leave it to me." Isabella gave him a commanding nod of her head, as she waited for her brother's confidence.

Ippolito looked squarely into her eyes and thought of all of Isabella's accomplishments up to that point—well-known accomplishments that had, in fact, been much greater than her husband's, and were actually costing her their marriage; she and her brother were still close and Ippolito knew that Francesco balked in embarrassed recognition of his wife's abilities and had taken to soothing his fragile ego more and more in the arms of a growing stable of whores as a balm for his diminished manhood. Isabella had confided to him during their last brief reunion, that, even then, her life and her husband's were already becoming two very separate entities.

"I'm sorry, sister, you are right—you could run the Vatican, Rome and the world, if it could be so—how many times have I heard father say as much?" Ippolito smiled at her then, truly comforted at the thought of it.

Isabella gave him a strong, loving hug. "Thank you, brother. Now we need each other... to complete this horrible task before us..." Isabella linked her arm through Ippolito's as they headed grimly away to see their father.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dead? Dead? It is confirmed?"

"Cardinal d'Este arrived just this evening with his body—surely you had heard the rumors, Chiara? Of the events in Rome? Certainly your patron mentioned it? He always hated Alfonso..." It was Eugenie Tasso, the courtesan favored by Ercole's advisor, Lord Romei, that had come to Chiara's door with the latest news. "Will you be coming to my Lord's tonight? Everyone will understand if you do not..."

"My patron will not. I will have to come or risk incurring his wrath."

"He's still jealous, then? Well, this should make him happy...and he should give you the night off..." Eugenie said with a disgusted snort. "Oh! I'm sorry, Chiara, I didn't mean—"

Chiara cut a sharp look at the woman but said nothing before she looked away; she went back to her armoire, where she had been about to choose the gown for her evening out that night before her friend knocked on the door.

"Why do you never call him by his true name, Chiara? I've always wondered..." came Eugenie's careful question as she took her seat upon the edge of Chiara's bed.

"You know why—that's all he is to me, anyway," Chiara began, her voice full of bitterness as she threw a brilliant purple silk upon her bed near the woman, "Lucrezia Borgia killed what was left of my heart when she stole Alfonso's away from me."

"You...you never stopped loving him, did you?" her friend asked her, truly amazed at her sudden revelation. "All of your harsh words about him, whenever anyone dared to mention him to you—lies? To calm your jealous patron?"

Chiara walked away and over to her window, that looked east and to the direction of Castello Estense, invisible though it was in the distance; she gazed out over the city, the night ever alive in the glow of flickering street lamps and the bustle of city dwellers below, even at that late hour. "I have never...will...never...stop loving him," came her hushed declaration through the sting of bitter tears flowing unchecked upon her cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ercole d'Este had indeed taken the news of Alfonso's death badly—already in somewhat frail health he collapsed upon the initial news and refused to go and see his son's dead body when he was able to do so; depressed and saddened beyond words he had taken to his bead, robbed of his appetite for food or any other sustenance.

"Is he trying to kill himself?" Ippolito asked his doctor, Don Massa, in despair, the second night after his father's breakdown.

"He has lost his will to go on, that is the only thing that I can say for certain," his doctor replied sadly.

"Heartbreak kills, brother, don't you know that?" Giulio said quietly.

"But when mother died, he was heartbroken—and survived..." Ippolito countered.

"He was a younger man, then Ippolito..." said Don Massa.

"And the heartbreak can be tallied further, brother: Beatrice; Ferrante; the death, so recently, of our Beloved..." said Isabella.

"Do not speak that woman's name, sister!" Ippolito fumed at his sister.

"I did not say her name—it was the child—the child was our child, brother...the heir to the duchy that father so wanted..."

"With Lucrezia Borgia for a mother the child is better off dead..."

"Ippolito! That's enough!" Giulio roared at him.

"And who are you? Borgia lover..." Ippolito spat at his half-brother's feet and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several days later Ercole took another turn for the worst. Weak and aware that his end was at hand, he called for his three children to assemble at his bedside; also present were his doctor and Cardinal Pietro Bembo.

"Father, do you understand that we are all here?" Ippolito asked him.

"Tap once with your finger upon the mattress, my Lord, for yes," his doctor, Don Massa, instructed him; Ercole looked dead at his daughter with weary eyes, then tapped once upon the brocade quilt.

"Father, can you point to the one who will succeed you?" Ippolito asked him carefully; he was sure that there was no other choice than Isabella, for he himself could not be appointed; Ferrante, thankfully, was still in prison; and Giulio was no contender. So when the old man raised his finger and pointed squarely at his brother Ippolito could not believe his eyes. "Father? Father? Surely you mean—"

"That's enough, Cardinal, the Duke's choice is clear..." Don Massa warned him. "You know that this takes all of his strength, there can be no more questions."

"But—"

"Rest now, my Lord, and I shall return in a moment," Don Massa said in a sincere and kindly voice to the old man; he took Ippolito gently by the arm and led him gently away to the salon. "Now, look here," the man began under his breath angrily, "you will not do this here—you will show no rancor before this man, Ippolito, not now! This man is my friend! If you cannot bring him comfort, leave! For I will not allow you to bring him distress! These are his last days, man, get a hold of yourself and think about him instead of yourself!"

"The doctor is right, brother; father's choice is clear and we must not show our disrespect to him..." said Isabella quietly as she approached them both, Giulio close on her heels.

"Thank you, sister, for your support," Giulio spoke up then.

"Shut up, Giulio, you most definitely do not have my support," Isabella snapped back at him.

"That's it—all of you—out—" Don Massa hissed at them all.

It was all that Isabella could do to get her brother out of earshot of their ailing father and beyond his apartment door before Ippolito began his diatribe.

"I don't believe it! How could he?"

"Will you _please_ keep your voice down? To my suite—now..." she ordered Ippolito; he kept quiet until they entered the privacy of Isabella's apartment, thinking back to the horrendous development revealed just moments before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Giulio? Giulio?" he barked in a rage as soon as she closed the door. "He must be out of his mind..."

"Clearly, Ippolito, he still has his faculties, even if he cannot speak—his choice was clear; I simply regret that he is unable to explain it to us..." Isabella said as she paced the floor in deep thought. "Our father has never been a stupid man; never allowed his emotions to influence such a matter of State; I am inclined to believe that if he has made such a decision that it is with good reason—he knows of my ability—and apparently he knows of Giulio's, even if we do not—I not only honor his decision, Ippolito, I trust it..."

"But you just told Giulio—"

"I have had a little time to think, Ippolito; this was not a decision just based on an only surviving son available to take his seat—he looked at me, Ippolito..."

"Yes, Isabella, he looked at you! You!" came her brother's frantic reminder.

"It was his assurance that he was giving me, Ippolito; his assurance that I could trust his decision—I must take it back, what I said to Giulio—he must have our support, brother, it's what father wants—he has put his trust in Giulio; we must do the same."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Ercole I d'Este, the Duke of Ferrara, suffered a massive heart attack and died.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ippolito, Isabella and Giulio gathered in Ercole's office to discuss their father's burial ceremony and plans for Giulio's ascension to their father's seat.

"The day after tomorrow—I can have everything arranged, brothers—and then Ferrara shall honor our father as befits him. Is that agreeable?"

"More than agreeable," Giulio assured her as Ippolito sat sullenly and silently by.

"And so what are your plans, Giulio?" Isabella asked him.

"Well, sister, just because it appears that I have been doing nothing does not make that so; father kept me abreast of everything, even though Alfonso refused to include me in anything more serious than commanding the castle staff. I am aware of their plans with King Louis and all of the players, thus far, in the League of Cambria—those plans will go forward; I had already arranged a meeting with the King and will be traveling to see him in the coming weeks."

That news brought Ippolito to angry attention. "Already arranged? What—"

"Yes, Ippolito, already arranged."

"Pope Julius—"

"Fuck Pope Julius—I am going ahead with the plans that our father and Alfonso made to keep this duchy secured and out of the hands of the Papal States. It has always been a precarious position to hold, but hold it I will!"

Giulio's commanding presence was not lost on Isabella although it quite surprised Ippolito.

"And what of Ferrante?"

"What of him?" Giulio sneered back at Ippolito.

"How soon before you release him and allow him to work against—"

"Work against whom, Ippolito? What?" Giulio cut him off, more than incensed, but doing well to keep himself under control. "I know that he used me—just as I know how you and Alfonso used me, to stay in our father's favor, all of these years; all of my life. Which was never necessary, I might add, but no matter. Those days are over. Those days have _been_ over, I hazard to say, and Ferrante stays in prison, where he rightfully belongs."

Ippolito was speechless.

"And I have stayed in contact with Angela Borgia, all of these years—I will now, finally, marry her."

Ippolito shot up from his seat, knocking over his chair as he did so. "I knew it! You _are_ insane! You want to be taken seriously as a diplomat? As the head of this duchy? To marry a Borgia now is political suicide! No one wold ever trust us, again!"

"Angela Borgia is reputable lady—"

"Angela Borgia is a whore! Just like her abominable cousin!"

Isabella was surprised to note that Giulio remained in his own seat, calm as ever and resolute regarding his plans; a fire burned in his eyes, as murderous as the one she'd ever seen burn in her father's over an injustice or obstacle that had ever stood in his way; as mortally chilling as she had ever witnessed in her brother, Alfonso's, whenever the time had come for him to make quick work of an enemy.

"She fucked Alfonso and she fucked me! She probably fucked Ferrante, as well!"

"That, brother, is a lie."

"I'm not your brother." Ippolito's hate-filled reminder was a sure pronouncement of the never-ending war between them.

"Alright—half-brother—so be it. But I know about Angela; yes, she slept with Alfonso, but only once—it matters not to me if she had done so a hundred times—he had Anna, then, and a heart, and it was not the salacious tryst you have convinced yourself of, nor tried to make me believe; you had her—and never cared about her at all—like everything else, you only took her because she was something of value to me that you did not believe that I deserved. Again, I say, those days are over. Half-brother." In his words were a cool threat and an unflappable promise.

"You would bring another Borgia to Ferrara? After all that has happened?"

Giulio raised up slowly from his seat to meet his half-brother eye-to-eye. "Lucrezia Borgia d'Este was a success here; and would have been even more so had Alfonso treated her with even an ounce of the respect and love that befitted her..."

"Love and respect?"

The siblings all turned to the one who had entered the office, uninvited and unannounced.

"You have heard the rumors about her—they were true, Giulio."

"Cardinal Bembo, how dare you come in here—"

"Pardon me, Marquessa, but I am trying to save your family from sure ruin."

"How dare you, Cardinal...my father adored Lucrezia..."

"He did, Giulio, but not at first, and neither did any of you; and had he known the truth, he would have forbidden Alfonso from ever marrying her—why, he would have sooner seen Chiara Acardi rule Ferrara with him, if he only known the truth."

"I will not hear slanderous words against Lucrezia at this late date, Cardinal Bembo; Lucrezia, who has gone missing and that no one, still, cares about."

"She has not gone missing—she left—of her own free will—aided by her brother, who has now gone missing, himself. Give them time and they will show up soon in some part of the world living as husband and wife."

"That is preposterous..."

"Not so preposterous, Giulio; I would call you 'my Lord', but based upon your certain course of action you will not last long in this duchy."

"Whatever my course of action, Cardinal, you have absolutely nothing to say about it."

"This is true. But your brother is correct—regardless of your feelings for Lucrezia—another Borgia in Ferrara will be the end of you; your sister would go on, in Mantua, but disgraced by her fool brother here in Ferrara, and her husband, who is neither a worthy Head of State."

"What are you talking about?" Isabella glowered at him.

"I know all of your secrets—all...of you—" Bembo said as he looked around the room at each of them, "which are ever safe with me, rest assured. But even my loyalty means nothing if you walk willing into the lion's den of Roman politics with Angela Borgia at your side; which is a shame, because Angela is a true lady and a fitting match for you and Ferrara. But her blood goes against her."

"What do you really know, Cardinal, about Lucrezia, that we apparently do not?" Isabella dared her demand for an answer from him.

"He was on the trail home with the slattern—how do we know that he isn't the one who has had a hand in it all?" Ippolito said to his sister, never taking his eyes off of Bembo. "Well?"

"I've had no hand in it; I've the nasty scar upon my head, here, to prove it," Bembo touched the ragged stitches above his brow leading up to his skull. "And I've already told you—the legacy of Borgia is debauchery and scandal—it will ever be their only legacy. Do not let it taint yours any more than it already has, for, if you, do, the House of d'Este will never recover. You may heed my warning—or not. I tell you now because I loved your father; I love Ferrara."

"You loved Lucrezia," Giulio accused him. "And to think that I defended you to Alfonso once..."

"And I thank you, for my love remained courtly...it was all that she would allow. I tried to seduce her, believe me, but she would have none of me. Her heart has only ever truly belonged to one man: that man was not myself...nor was it Alfonso d'Este. Lucrezia Borgia has betrayed us all. Her betrayal has cost us Ercole and Alfonso. And there I shall leave it."

Bembo turned and left them.

"Cardinal?"

"Your future is truly up to you," he said without turning back.

"Cardinal?" Isabella called out to him again but could only watch as he disappeared through the door, never to be seen in Ferrara or Mantua again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The _Rosa Bianca_ had finally reached a point where dry land was but a memory. Lucrezia did not ask Diego or Dorotea where they were anymore, because nothing mattered more to her than the day the ship reached their intended destination, and beyond that, the day that Cesare joined her there.

Each day was a struggle to be present for her boys and keep her innards at a manageable level of queasiness, for no matter how effective the remedy, relief was merely temporary. The weather had remained fairly calm, but the ocean was a force of nature that frightened her terribly. Viewing the horizon was the best remedy for her, but it was the hardest to endure, as it came with the view, also, of the choppy winter seas, and the roiling, foamy, white-crested waves that looked like they would engulf the ship at any moment; it had become more of a price than Lucrezia was willing to pay in order to calm her insides. Instead, she had taken to staying below deck, living on salty bread, water, ginger root, and prayers for the voyage to end safely.

When the boys slept her thoughts turned to all that she had left behind: Gioffre; La Bella; she wondered how Miracella was doing and if she had a child of her own already; she wondered about Pietra di Benedetti in faraway Nepi and the myriad of other kind souls she had met in her travels throughout Italy. She thought of Pietro Bembo and then the d'Este's, and how much they would despise her if they ever knew the truth about her. That hurtful thought turned to the vision of her beautiful mother, and the awful fact that their last words with each other hand been angry ones. She thought of her father and daughter, whose tombs she would never be able to visit. And of course that heartbreak led to thoughts of Cesare and Micheletto, for whom she prayed were already on their way and would soon be reunited with her even as she tried valiantly to quell her truest fear that she would never see them again.

When her mind wasn't on her boys or taken up with prayers Lucrezia was just exhausted and numb, and lucky if sleep stole her attention away from her worries and allowed her escape into the blessed realm where even dreams dared not to sojourn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Contessa?"

"Michelangelo? Good morning," Vannozza smiled brightly at her friend.

"Good morning, my Lady—you are on your way to your son, of course?"

"In a moment; I'm waiting on cook to finish his and the Captain's breakfast and then I shall take down their trays. Just another ten minutes, or so. And how are you this fine morning?"

"I am fine, thank you. So the Captain is doing better?"

"Much better; Luisa has been true to her word, she and her sister are working miracles on him...on them both, actually; he is still in and out of consciousness, and has barely been able to form a coherent word...broth and water is all that we've been able to manage for him thus far...time to heal is what he needs, and thanks to Madonna Felice he shall have it. But he is so much better than when he first came to us. And Cesare's nursing skills have turned out to be quite formidable, as well," Vannozza chuckled to herself.

"That is so good to hear, my love. When you have a moment I would like for you to visit my studio—there is something that I would like to show you."

"I would be honored, Maestro—a new work?"

"No...I have a present—for you."

Vannozza gave him a curious yet very pleased little smirk.

"Yes...for you. It would actually only take a moment, I would not dare to make you late for our wards downstairs. A moment? Would you come with with me?"

Vannozza followed him to his studio and was led to a covered bust; when Michelangelo uncovered it she gasped. "Me? That's me! When? How—"

"From your sketch, my love...this was born; when it is finished I shall send it to you. I am also working on your portrait—the one I told you that I would add to my collection..."

"Of your dear mother and Madonna Felice..."

"Yes. And this." Michelangelo lifted a lovely little gold locket on its matching delicate chain from around the neck of the bust. "There is a little spring here, and voila!"

"Michelangelo! Oh!" Tears sprang immediately to her eyes and she was rendered speechless, for inside was a lovely miniature painting of her and Rodrigo, facing each other and coming out of a sweet, soulful, loving kiss; ever taken with each other; ever thankful for each other; smiling playfully at each other, with her eyes closed and Rodrigo's open and full of his love and appreciation. "Were you present, Michelangelo, during this kiss?" Vannozza managed when she found her voice again.

"It pleases you? I have not taken a liberty?"

"Oh...it pleases, Michelangelo...very much."

"I do not wish to slight the fine man, still living, who loves you so much, Contessa—"

"You mean Theo?"

"Yes; yet I am so happy to be able to give this to you privately; as a testament to the love that you shared with His Holiness, your beloved Rodrigo; that love left its lasting effect upon me, you see. I do not have to tell you how to think of him, for the love that you shared with him was such a monumental one...and timeless. I know that he resides forever in your heart; I may never fully capture it on canvas or in marble as I wish, but will ever strive to do so. This is but a small token of that endeavor. I would be honored for you to carry with you always, the visual companion to the love I can only imagine, that affects my own heart to this day."

"It is magnificent, Michelangelo; I don't know how I can ever thank you enough..." Vannozza threw her arms around him and sobbed into his chest. "I miss him terribly..."

"I know, my love... and please be assured that your pleasure is ever my greatest reward."

Vannozza collected herself and took the kerchief that she found held before her. "These are truly happy tears, precious man," she said as she took it from Michelangelo and dabbed delicately at the corners of her eyes.

Michelangelo nodded his smile at her. "May I?"

"Of course."

Michelangelo moved to stand behind her, put the chain around her lovely neck and fastened the clasp. "Alright...cook is surely ready for you now—may I assist you with the trays?"

"Oh, I appreciate that, but Luisa will be waiting in the kitchen to help me," she said as she fingered the lovely locket resting perfectly between her tantalizing collar bones.

"Very good. Then we shall see each other at dinner tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yes; I have business with the Beast later this afternoon; he has gotten the notion into his head that he would like to have the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel painted and wishes to discuss it with me."

"Really? He has time to think of such things? Other than the murder of my son? Amazing."

"Apparently," Michelangelo sniffed, equally disgusted.

"Be careful, Michelangelo..."

"Banish that frown from upon your face, Contessa; he suspects nothing, regarding our little project here, and he never will. Come, let me at least walk you to the kitchen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Micheletto...Micheletto...can you hear me, my friend? Micheletto?" Cesare whispered softly at the sleeping man; he had noticed his eyelids fluttering wildly and fine beads of sweat break across his ginger brows and did not know if his friend was in the throes of a bad dream or a fever. "Micheletto?" Cesare gently touched Micheletto's forehead with the back of his hand and suddenly Micheletto jerked violently awake.

His impulse had been to reach for the dagger in his belt, but just the thought of movement caused Micheletto to release a grunt of pain.

"My...hands...can't..."

"Micheletto, your arms are broken..."

"Cannot...feel..." he moaned.

"Your arms are broken...you are splinted up..."

Micheletto's pain-filled blue eyes began to clear a bit and then settled on the face of the concerned man above him. "Marino?" he whispered.

Cesare smiled lovingly at him. "No, my friend, not Marino...somewhere better—we are safe, Micheletto."

"Safe..." he repeated through an unbelieving groan as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, trying not to give in completely to the pain coursing through every nerve, muscle and limb of his body.

"Safe my friend."

Micheletto opened his eyes again and looked at Cesare, daring him to answer his unspoken question.

"We..." Cesare began in a conspiratorial whisper, "are in the wine cellar of our very good friend—Madonna Felice della Rovere," Cesare smiled broadly at him, tried hard to suppress an impish chuckle and failed; Micheletto, unable to respond in kind began, literally, to choke at the irony of it. "Micheletto! Water...hold on..." Cesare's mirth was immediately aborted at his friend's distress and he scrambled for the flask on the little table next to his cot. "Here, my friend, drink..." Cesare assisted him gently to do so, then wiped away the dribble upon Micheletto's beard with a kerchief. "Are you alright?"

Micheletto grunted.

"It is a surprise, I know." Cesare's tone was an apology for springing the news upon him in such a manner.

"It...is...perverse..." Micheletto managed through another grunt of pain.

Cesare smiled. "Perfectly perverse, hmm?"

"If only...I could...laugh..."

Cesare laughed out loud for them both. "Yes...until then, be still, Micheletto; mother shall be here shortly with sustenance and fresh bandages—look at that table there..." Cesare pointed to the one at the foot of Micheletto's cot. "Can you see it?"

"All of that? For...me?" he asked through gritted teeth, as his eyes struggled against the fog in his brain making everything, except the handsome man above him, a hazy intrusion upon his private joy.

"Yes...for you."

They both heard a knock upon the barricaded door.

"As we speak, hmm?" Cesare gave Micheletto a delicate kiss to his parched lips and then went to the door to let his mother in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Must you go?" he asked the stunning woman perched naked on the edge of the bed, ready to rise and leave him.

"It is noon already...my guests..." she said apologetically over her shoulder at him.

"Are happily taken up with each other...as I am with you..." Ascanio sat up in the bed gave a kiss to Felice's smooth, bare, exquisite shoulder.

"True...but I must see to them. And I have an appointment with my father later."

"Oh?"

Felice's face turned sad as she looked away from Ascanio. "I am to formally be introduced, today, to Gian Giordano—"

"Orsini."

"Yes."

"So...you will go through with it?"

Felice gave a heavy sigh. "Doesn't a woman always go through with it, Ascanio?" Her tone was more than bitter.

Ascanio took hold of her and pulled her gently back down upon the bed. "Go through with this...now and forever, for I shall not leave you here to deal with this alone..." he whispered at her before his lips overtook hers.

Hours later, and still reluctant to leave him, Felice rose up again from beside him in her bed.

"Go, my love, and rest assured that I will be here when you return."

"Now and forever," Felice harrumphed.

Ascanio pulled her back into his embrace. "Yes."

"And how will you manage such a thing, Ascanio?"

"Your father, after one of his many murderous machinations against Pope Alexander Sixtus, escaped his imprisonment in Rome and absconded to France; when the time was apropos for him, he returned, easy as you please, stating simply that he been away on 'family business'." Ascanio smirked at the memory. "I shall do the same, my dear Felice; when the time is right, and the worst of his embarrassment over this abates—and it will—I shall return to the Vatican and take whatever post he gives me, as long as it is one in Rome, for I can never leave as long as you are here. He may marry you to Orsini—but you shall never lose me, Felice."

"You think that it will be that easy, Ascanio?"

"Oh...it is my promise to you. Now go on, get it over with—and then hurry back to these waiting arms."


	97. In Another Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own "Six Fragments for Atthis" by Sappho.
> 
> And now, the end.

And so the weeks went by; Micheletto slowly regained his general health enough to speak, take proper sustenance, and to think coherently. The broken bones in his arms and legs would mend, thanks to the sisters Crivelli, Nicolosia and Luisa, who had indeed worked wonders with poultices to ease the pains that wreaked havoc throughout the man's body, and with their special arsenal of herbs used in the exhaustive combat against the infections that threatened to do him in; they were able to save his right foot, but he was, indeed, going to need the aid of a cane once it was all said and done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Rome, a certain calm had finally begun to fall over the Vatican; Giuliano della Rovere's blood still boiled at the fact that his arch-nemesis had escaped due process and his just reward, but he did have other matters, both personal and ecclesiastical, to attend to, as his nephew, Cardinal Sisto della Rovere, was happy to remind him of as often as possible.

"I understand that you met with Michelangelo very recently?" Sisto asked from his across his uncle's stately new desk, delivered just that morning to the Pontiff's office.

"Yes...Our plans are quite grand, but We know that he is up to the task; you should see his David—most-magnificent!"

"Really? I've heard that there are some imperfections in the marble..." Sisto remarked absently, absorbed with the many items on the agenda they had to discuss privately before their meeting with the Consistory later that day; he ticked off another item on the scroll in his lap before and looked up to find the Pope glaring angrily at him.

"I'm sorry, Holiness, I have offended you..."

"And you have heard such a thing from whom?"

"Uh...a criticism being passed around by da Vinci, I believe..." Sisto informed him carefully.

"They have had a falling-out recently, Leonardo and Michelangelo—discount what you've heard to the negative, from him or anyone else—the statue is magnificent."

"Yes, Holiness...how much longer, then, before he will unveil it?"

"He says a few weeks from now, but that has been his stock answer since 1502," della Rovere grumbled, for Michelangelo had begun work on the statue a year before that.

"Yes, well, magnificence does not happen over the course of one night, hmm?" Sisto chuckled at his own lame joke, which garnered yet another sour look from his uncle. "Uh...the betrothal went well, Holiness, don't you think?" he changed the subject quickly, only to be rewarded with another sour look.

"Well enough; We know when Our daughter is only placating Us; she is not pleased by this development, but Gian is an excellent choice for her, whether she appreciates it or not. This alliance is more than necessary; and now We must plan the ball, where Our other lovely one will meet her own future husband." della Rovere was speaking of his niece, Lucrezia Gora della Rovere, for whom he had chosen Marcantonio Colonna.

"Yes, the invitations to your first official banquet feast are being prepared as we speak..." Sisto assured him.

"Good, gather the list together so that Felice may get to work on the table seating."

"Immediately, Holiness."

"The day that the Orsini and Colonna are finally united, and through Our own bloodline, no less, is going to be a blessed day for Rome, indeed."

"Yes, Holiness."

"And now there is the Republic of Venice to deal with."

"Do you wish for me to call in Cardinals Riario, Grimani, and de Remolins now?"

"Not de Remolins—send him on the errand to get the invitation list for Felice."

"Yes, Holiness."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Immediately after his accession, against the wishes of his family and the counsel of his own late father's most trusted advisors, Giulio I d'Este, Duke of Ferrara and Angela Borgia were betrothed, and made ready their arrangements to marry on Christmas Day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Micheletto was not being attended to by the sisters, it was Cesare, almost restored by then to his own full vigor, save for his still tender and bandaged rib cage, that eased the days of his friend in whatever manner that was required. On one such morning, after both men had been fed and the long hours alone before their noon meal stretched before them, Micheletto decided that it was time to broach a subject that had been troubling him, which he did as he heard Cesare bolting the door after the departure of the sisters.

"It's going to take me months to be restored to my independence, Cesare—you should go on ahead to Santo Domingo and not delay a moment longer...the sisters have me in hand well-enough...even though you are quite the fetching medic, there's no reason for you to remain here any longer—I am worried for Lucrezia."

He heard Cesare's sharp little intake of breath behind him and knew that sound well; it was the sound of Cesare's displeasure, which was typically accompanied by an irritated look and a sure argument. He heard Cesare pull a chair loudly along and then his friend was before him, straddled upon the chair, his countenance bearing sure confirmation of how well he knew the man.

"You've changed your mind, is that it?" came Cesare's accusation through his tightly clenched teeth.

"It has been more than three weeks already; the journey away will take another month and I am nowhere near ready for it...they are certainly almost landed by now."

"The only way that I will make the journey away from these shores, and have my peace, is to have you beside me, Micheletto Corella. What is to keep you from returning to Forli and your loving, beauteous mama, hmm? And to a life of your own, at last, hmm?"

Cesare's anger made Micheletto's heart swell but he dared not to give any indication of it. "I made arrangements for my mother immediately after your father died. Believe me, Cesare Borgia, if that had been my plan, to return to Forli, we would not be having this conversation."

"Yet we are having this conversation."

"I have no life in Forli, not anymore, even as much as I love my mother. After I killed my father...it was the reason I left to begin with. No, she is in the good hands and loving care of my friend, Agostino. You saw him, at my mother's house."

"Oh, yes...the silent, angry one that you neither had words for...he is a good friend, you say?"

"More than a friend. Once upon a time."

The revelation dawned slowly upon Cesare. "Oh. But...he was getting married, was he not?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"He was my first love, Cesare; we grew up together; he is as my mother's own. He had to go on with his life when I left. I will now, finally, go on to my own, thanks to you. Do not worry for me; and do not make Lucrezia wait any longer for you, for surely you know that she must be imagining the worst."

Cesare's features softened at the thought of Micheletto's concern for Lucrezia. "I appreciate that, Micheletto, but I will not leave without you. If there was anyone, at all, that I trusted then I would send word to her; but as such a one does not exist—the final leg of this journey looms brightly in our immediate future. I made a promise to her and I know that she has not given up on us...I trust that she knows that we will make our way to her."

"Months, Cesare! We are talking months, here! I am useless! With more long months of uselessness staring me in the face! She is more than resilient...still, it is much to ask of her, especially with no word from you, to explain—"

"She will understand, Micheletto—"

"I am useless—"

"You are not useless!"

"I want you to go!"

"We have a ship, at our disposal, ready to sail when we are..."

"I can make my own way, when the time comes, and I will, Cesare! You truly do not trust that I will do so, is that it?"

Cesare rose up from his chair and began to pace the small room, in obvious and deep thought. "You...there is something more...your concern for Lucrezia is not in doubt...but you hide your truest feelings behind it—what is it, Micheletto, that truly troubles you?" Cesare came to a stop before the man, turned the chair properly around, and then retook his seat to face him eye to eye. "You will tell me."

"I have shamed myself once before you, with my total lack of good judgment regarding Pascal..."

"I thought that...after everything that has happened between us, now...that we were beyond that, Micheletto..." Cesare's soft words were as a gentle caress against Micheletto's very skin.

"Let me finish, this is difficult enough for me, Cesare; I have appreciated your ministrations, more than appreciated you, these past weeks...let me regain what I can of my vigor—and my dignity—for this new life that I truly must forge for myself—with you...but not with you..." Micheletto's eyes bore intently into Cesare's through his tight-lipped and uneasy admission of love—and loss. "Do you understand?"

A slow, sad smile spread across Cesare's face but he said nothing for a long while; finally, he leaned in close and rested his forehead lightly against Micheletto's temple. "I never meant to be a torment for you, Micheletto; and I love you, too," he admitted easily, with the full knowledge that his friend would never admit the same out loud.

Cesare wanted to seek his assurance, yet again, that Micheletto would indeed come to Santo Domingo, as he'd promised; that he would not re-think Forli, or some other place on Earth that held a better prospect than his loudly breaking heart anticipated as the result of staying with Cesare...who loved Lucrezia; for that was the argument that his heart, and mind, must have been holding, Cesare was certain of it. Yet Cesare knew better than to push the issue, even though his own fear was that he had lost Micheletto already. He drew away from him then to find Micheletto looking resolutely up at the ceiling, awaiting his own assurance from Cesare.

"Yes, Micheletto. I understand. I will go ahead—" Cesare cut himself off. _And await your arrival? I want to say those words but they would only anger you, hmm? I shall not heap that expectation upon you, then; I shall just have to wait and see, it seems._

"Cesare?"

"Yes, my friend?"

"Thank you. Safe journey, brother; may the wind be at your back the whole of your passage. And give our dear Lucrezia my love."

"I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I understand completely, Cesare, you do not have to explain it to me..."

Cesare and Vannozza had been secreted to her suite in order to say their farewells to one another.

"He will remain in the capable hands of the Crivelli's, and you know that Felice will never see him away from here until he is absolutely ready to go. I love him so—for being so concerned for you and Lucrezia, my love."

 _I love him so, as well, mother._ "Yes, they must surely be there, by now, if not, only days away...I can only imagine how worried she must be..."

"And so another month...that will put you there well into January..."

"It doesn't take quite a whole month—I might very well make it before the New Year," Cesare smiled brightly at his mother.

"Cesare...I have been very discreet in my investigations of Santo Domingo—"

Cesare gave a surprised little guffaw at her. "Investigations? What investigations, mother?"

"Trips to Michelangelo's workshop to obtain the occasional copy of a world map or two—he has quite a collection from da Vinci himself..."

"Mother—you must do nothing that would arouse suspicion or give us away..."

"I know that, which is why I've constrained myself to a personal and friendly source; he's asked no questions, I often peruse his workshop, at his invitation of course, and remark on the wonders that I find there."

"Really? And when did this all come about, then...the perusing of Michelangelo's work shop..." Cesare ribbed her, intrigued and just a bit scandalized.

"Oh! Do not make it sound like something salacious—he is my friend."

"Yes...a friend that gave you such an intimate piece of jewelry, no less..."

"That is a miniature painting of me and your father..."

"Well, you know what they say about flattery, mother—and all of this time I had heard...otherwise about him..."

Vannozza shot her son a reprimanding glance—and then a sultry little knowing smile before she caught herself.

"Mother?" On Cesare's face was pure shock.

"Our conversation has been derailed in the most inappropriate manner—my point concerns Santo Domingo; from what I've seen and read—"

Cesare was outdone and let out an exasperated grunt that attested to the fact. "Read, now, really?"

"It seems a wild and ungoverned place, Cesare—will she be alright? Will you both be alright?" All joking and frivolity had been cast aside and the look of worry on Vannozza's face was true.

"Mother...come to me..." Cesare walked over to her and gathered her into his arms. "She will be fine; we will all be fine; and there is a contingency plan, my love, other lands, close by, that we could possibly set sail for if the need should arise."

"Does Lucrezia know of this?"

"Not yet, but she will—and she will hear it all from me. Soon. Please stop crying; I know that your intent is well-meaning, but we must be careful, hmm? At least until I am gone, and then Micheletto; and months from now, when I am in Santo Domingo, you may peruse the shelves of any library or bookseller, and to your heart's content, yes? Can you wait to do that?"

"Yes, my love," she managed through her quiet sob.

"One day, somehow, when this has all blown over and we are forgotten, we shall get word to you, mother, that we are safe, and as happy as we can be in a world without you in it..." Cesare lifted his mother's chin so that her gaze could meet his. "Yes?"

"You will never be forgotten..." Vannozza erupted at him through a fresh onslaught of tears and before he took her, again, into his firm embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And so Cesare had said goodbye already to Micheletto, the morning that they had broken each other's hearts equally; the next day he had bid his farewell to his mother, who was happy for him and more than devastated for herself; there was only Felice della Rovere left to thank and see him off; near to midnight that same evening, disguised and cloaked, he did just that; standing at the back entrance of her kitchen they spoke in hushed tones.

"It's alright, Cesare, everyone is dismissed; the square is empty..."

"I shall be as a puff of smoke in the fog," he smiled at her.

"Yes."

"I understand that Ascanio is here?"

"He is."

"I said goodbye to him at Castel Sant'Angelo, but please give him my heartfelt thanks, again, for all of his help, for all of these years, and tell him that I wish him every happiness."

"I will, Cesare."

"And you—Madonna Felice della Rovere—there are not enough words that I could ever command to express my gratitude for all that you have done for my family—and for me. I am eternally indebted." Cesare kissed the back of her hand and then her palm before he pressed it to his cheek. "You will be careful? Where your father is concerned?"

"He knows absolutely nothing, Cesare and suspects even less," she smiled at him. "And you owe me nothing—except to go on to your freedom and live as happy a life that this world may offer you...all that you can hold, my love."

"And that is my fervent wish for you, Felice."

"Micheletto will heal, my Luisa assures me of it; had she been born a man she would be a surgeon, surely, but I thank God that I have her."

Cesare nodded at her.

"And now you must go; your horse is saddled; your way is clear. Godspeed, Cesare Borgia."

Cesare gave kisses to both her cheeks. "Thank you. Felice della Rovere."

Cesare slipped through her door and out into the cold, black night; Felice heard, almost immediately, the sound of hooves upon the cobblestones gallop away and then fade to silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lucrezia! My Love! You must awaken for this!"

Dorotea had come bounding through her cabin door with Maria in her arms, excited as a child on Christmas morning.

"Dorotea?"

"Wipe the sleep out of your eyes, my love, and get dressed—we land soon!"

"What?"

"Hadn't you noticed that the waters are calmer? We are out of the Caribbean Ocean my love and heading to port on the _Rio Ozama!_ "

"What?"

"The river, my love, we are heading to the river..."

Lucrezia had taken to staying in her cabin those last weeks at sea, only going above to exercise her legs and those of Giovanni; had it not been been for her rambunctious little one, who seemed to be suffering no ill affects from the voyage, she would have been content to lay upon her bunk and die. But there was her toilet to see to, as well as for her children, and other little chores that, at least, kept her below deck and ever near her cabin. The days and nights were seamless to her, and never-ending, and Lucrezia was sure that she had died, was in purgatory and that only hell awaited her. She gave a heavy groan, stretched and began to collect her clothing.

"No, my love, it's much too hot for that—and bundle Rodrigo lightly, as well..." Dorotea said after she laid her Maria safely beside Lucrezia on the bunk, "there's no winter here..." she continued as she roused Giovanni and began to dress him, "it's quite hot today—the dress you wore to the pub in Chioggia will do you well today—we are masquerading as poor colonists, after all..." Dorotea beamed at her.

Lucrezia noticed suddenly that, for the first time since they'd set sail, her stomach was calm. And that the ginger root the she had grabbed at automatically, as she did every morning, was not needed.

"We've made it, Dorotea?"

"Yes, my love! We've made it! Come on, with you..."

It was near noon when the _Bianca Rosa_ moored in the _Rio Ozama_. Lucrezia, stood on the upper deck at the bottom of the stairs on the quarterdeck, one arm threaded through the rail and holding on for dear life, the other holding her baby tight to her bosom; it had always been from that vantage point, when she had gone above, that she viewed the calming horizon; and it was from that point that she took in her first view of Santo Domingo, bustling with other ships heading in from behind them, ships in front of them heading out, and the river bank, filled with all kinds of people engaged in all types of activities.

"Jews? There are Jews? Here?" she asked as she spied a group of men, already familiar with their most un-Roman style of dress, their long beards, and long, single ringlets that adorned the sides of their faces.

"Yes, indeed there are," Diego answered her. "Do you have a problem with them, my Lady?"

"I do not...I'm just surprised."

"Well, don't be; and don't let anyone else around here hear you say that; it is a temporary refuge; the Spanish wish to convert them to Christianity, of course they resist; the lot of them are looking at having their children taken away from them, to stay here and be converted, while the adults are to be expelled to some other land that won't want to keep them."

"That's horrible, Diego..."

"It is, my Lady, but again I say—once you're off this ship, keep such sentiments to yourself."

Lucrezia gave a horrified look at Dorotea.

"We'll be alright, my love..."

Lucrezia looked back upon the river bank; she saw natives, some of them dressed as the young man that had been presented to her father, so long ago, and others dressed like colonists; then she saw another ship, where a line of chained hostages were being led down a plank; naked, foreign, black-skinned men and women, looking as terrified as she felt for them. "What in the world?"

Diego followed Lucrezia's gaze. "Slaves, my Lady...Cristoforo Colombo sanctioned their import, years ago, to help the colonists."

"With what?"

"Farming...gold-mining—the first sugar mill has been built here, finally, workers are needed for that."

"But you said 'slaves'..." Lucrezia reminded him, totally aghast.

"Surely you are familiar with the concept of slavery, my Lady, you are Roman, after all."

"Yes, but that was not the Rome of my time, Diego. What barbaric kind of place is this?"

"It is the place where you will have freedom, Lucrezia," Dorotea gently reminded her.

"And another thing, from this moment on you are _Rivera_ , wife of my brother _Juan_ , who arrives here later, do you understand?" Diego asked her quietly.

"Cesare will name himself _Juan_? Really..." Lucrezia thought of her brother Juan, surely turning over in his grave.

"Yes, for the purposes of our stay here. You may name yourself what ever you like...the more Spanish, the better—or we can just call you _Señora Rivera_. It's up to you."

"We'll be alright, _Señora Rivera_ ," Dorotea reminded her again, this time with a kiss to her friend's cheek.

"I will be honest with you, my Lady—Queen Isabella has sent a new governor here, Nicolás de Ovando; he is not popular with the _Taíno_ natives; his administration is brutal...there is the occasional uprising here and sometimes...well, sometimes the _Taíno_ win; I told Cesare about all of this and it did not deter him; it does not deter me; as long as you follow my instructions we will survive here quite nicely; you should know, that if things get out of control, well, there is a plan for that, as well. After Cesare arrives we shall sit you both down and explain it to you, in detail. Hmm?"

Lucrezia looked glumly at Diego. _If Cesare arrives._

"Yes, ladies?"

Both women nodded at him.

"Good. Come on, then...gather the children; I've business with the port master and then we are off to our new farm, yes?" Diego smiled sympathetically at his shocked charge, being helped along by his own woman, who had been prepared long ago by his many tales of sailing with Colombo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days turned into weeks; Christmas had come and gone and the New Year was a threatening spectre in Lucrezia's life. Still Cesare had not come. The Rivera's kept mostly to themselves and, by three weeks in had only hired three servants to attend them: a maid; a laundress; and an old Taíno gentleman as their cook. Many of the other colonists wondered what sort they were not to get started with the hire of help to farm their impressive cassava crop.

"I'm waiting for my brother," Diego would tell bold and nosy inquirers when he went into town for supplies.

"We could let it all rot, this place is only a cover," Diego grumbled to the women after one particularly difficult trip. "Of course we can't do such a thing, cassava is a valuable staple throughout the Caribbean. I tried to find a place where the crop was in shambles, but even the poor colonists are making a profit, just not as much as they'd like, competing as they are with the gold miners and sugar mill owners for status."

"Ridiculous...it's ridiculous," Lucrezia concurred disgustedly as she set dinner plates before her friends. "There's no reason for anyone here to be hungry, no reason at all; there's no reason that you can't turn a profit and still provide pay, an equitable system where workers have a life instead of only misery to wake up to each day."

"Yes, well, I'm going to have to get some workers in here; we don't have to treat them as heinously as the other colonists, Lucrezia, but neither can we treat them too well—we must assimilate," Diego cautioned.

"That's ridiculous..." Lucrezia fumed as she sat down heavily in her seat before her own plate.

"The colonists are hosting a ball tonight, at the Casa del Cordon—we should go, ladies."

"Fuck the colonists."

Diego laughed out loud at Lucrezia's outburst. "Lucrezia, you are truly becoming a woman of the New World."

"Diego..."

"I mean no harm, Dorotea—" he looked away from Dorotea's reprimanding scowl and over to Lucrezia. "I mean no harm, Lucrezia."

"I know that you don't. I am in no mood for festivities—why don't you two go? I will be happy to stay here with the children," she managed a smile of apology at them.

"Really, my love?"

"Really, Dorotea. Please...go and enjoy yourselves."

"Are you sure? This is a fine excuse to cast our frumpy frocks aside and wear real gowns, Lucrezia, without being suspect...won't you change your mind? Silvia would be happy to stay with the children tonight and we'll pay her extra."

"I'll be happy to pay her extra anyway, and send her home to her own small ones waiting for her."

Dorotea and Diego exchanged knowing, disappointed looks.

"When Cesare gets here you will feel differently," Dorotea smiled as she got up quietly from her seat.

"Go...have a wonderful time...do not leave without giving me the joy of seeing you dressed in all of your finery—you will put them all to shame, this I already know."

Diego dared to get up and give a kiss of thanks to her cheek and then left with Dorotea to go and dress.

Later, on their way out, Lucrezia gave them a little bow. "Just as I said—you both look magnificent—say goodnight to mama and papa, Maria..." Lucrezia walked the darling girl over to be kissed goodnight by her handsome parents. "Enjoy, my loves."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodrigo was already asleep in his crib, so Lucrezia recited a lively version of _'For Want of a Nail'_ toMaria and Giovanni, complete with impressions of neighing horses, an improvised battle between Giovanni's beloved hobby horse and Maria's little rattle, lots of tickles and funny faces; happily tired out, all three of them, she took them up to the nursery and put them down for bed. Giovanni fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but little Maria needed more time to settle down.

"Oh...you don't want to be the odd woman out, do you?" she cooed at the little beauty as she seated herself in a rocking chair. "No...we don't want that...and Nana Bobo has come calling, hmm, my darling girl? Yes..." she rocked her gently; before long they had both dozed off.

Sometime later Lucrezia awoke with a start and was surprised to find her sweet Maria, still in her arms—but she'd definitely heard a noise that sounded as if it had come from the first floor; she rose up carefully and put the sleeping babe in her own crib, checked her two boys, still sleeping soundly, and then left them to go investigate.

"Dorotea? Diego? You have returned?" Lucrezia walked through the modest little villa to the front door but they were not there. She heard another noise and jumped. "Dorotea? Diego?" Starting to fear that an intruder was in the house she grabbed a poker from the fireplace and proceeded cautiously to the kitchen. "Who's there?" she called out bravely. "I can hear you—just go away and that will be the end of it—come any closer and you will be sorry..." There was no one in the small kitchen; Lucrezia headed for the veranda.

 _This is ridiculous—how does anyone live here with such a lack of security? Anyone can come in and murder you in your sleep..._ she noted of the open veranda leading into the villa, viewing it in a completely different light and from her position of being in fear; she dared not step outside to look any further; about to call out yet another warning she heard, instead, her own name come at her from the darkness.

"Lucrezia—is this any way to greet your brother?" He revealed himself then, as he stepped from behind a wide column.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Cesare?"

"Yes, my love."

"Cesare!" Lucrezia dropped the poker, which clattered loudly upon the stone tiles and ran to him. "Cesare!"

Cesare took her up into his embrace and smothered her with kisses. "My love," he managed between them.

"You wanted me to die from fright, is that it?"

"No, my love—I came around to the back—imagine my surprise at being able to walk right in..."

"Imagine mine! I am alone here with the children, Dorotea and Diego went to a ball..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"How long have you been here?"

" I landed a few hours ago; it's taken half that time to get directions to my brother Diego's farm and secure a ride..."

"Oh, Cesare...what God-forsaken place have you and Diego consigned us to?" The tears began to spring from her eyes then.

"What? What is wrong, my love?"

"Slave owners, Cesare? We are to be slave owners?"

"No..."

"Or worse, killed by the natives? These people have been so wronged, Cesare..."

"Shh...shh...calm yourself, my love, this is but a temporary stop..."

"Wh-what? And where is Micheletto?"

"Oh, my love, I have so much to tell you...but first...I have missed you so—take me to our room..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

_September, 1504_

_My Dearest, Darling Lucrezia,_

_Oh, my love I have so much to tell you._

_First, how are you? How is Cesare? I must tell you that he revealed your whereabouts to me before he left to come to you. You know that I shall never breathe a word of it to another soul. I hope that you are happy in Santo Domingo. I've done some reading about the place, and managed to find a few out-of-date copies of 'El Diario from the bookseller...pointless, you must be thinking, since I cannot read Spanish...I can manage with some of it, but fear not, for your old mother is ever resourceful—I've employed a Spanish apprentice to my cook and he happily translates for me._

_It is quite the town, that you and Cesare are now living in. Are you still living there? Or has your brother found more peaceful environs elsewhere? I certainly hope that is the case._

_It has been three months since he left Rome and another five since Micheletto left the care and hospitality of Madonna Felice—more on that in a moment—has he made it to you yet?_

_In all of that time this is the first that I've dared to put quill to parchment and begin this letter to you. No doubt Cesare has told you of the events that stemmed from his return to Rome to rescue his imprisoned cousin cardinals; what a time that was. I'm sure that he told you of how he killed your husband, Alfonso. It was self-defense, my love, the man went there to kill Cesare. It was by the grace of God that your brother had the strength to defend himself so successfully, and I say that only because Cesare was wounded; had he been at full health...had della Rovere never gotten his vile hands on him...well, needless to say he would have gotten to you sooner; of course, I would have never had those last precious days with him as he convalesced; I would have no idea where the two of you are. And so I must turn to brighter subjects, yes? For the myriad of thoughts that already run rampant, at the idea of any singular event going one way instead of the other—it is maddening._

_I want to apologize, my love, for misunderstanding, so completely, your need to leave your husband; for the horrid counsel I gave you at Val Camonica. Can you find it in your heart to ever forgive me? I pray that you will. The old clichés are true, are they not? Tomorrow is not promised...had I known then that I would never see you again...please, my love, I hope that you will not lament our last harsh words, or find any fault within yourself for attempting to convey what you could of your truth—I love you, my darling girl—you magnificent woman—always and forever. It takes a real woman to live the life that you have lived and to survive it, and now God has graced you with the chance, finally, to have your happiness. For all of my sadness at not being to see you; to hold you; to hold a conversation with you and gaze upon your beauteous face; share a smile with you, or a joke; even as I miss every moment that I have been blessed to share with you, I revel in the fact that you have Giovanni and Rodrigo, together, to hold at your bosom. A mother must lose all of her children to their own lives, eventually, so your journey away, though far and foreign to me, is the natural course of things, yes? It is all the years that a mother has with her children, before that fateful day of final separation comes, that she treasures forever in her heart. I was blessed to have those years with you. And now you shall have those years with your own. I would have to say, rather selfishly, I admit, that everything—the joys and the miseries, though I certainly wish all of your miseries could have been spared—make this final outcome worth it, wouldn't you agree?_

_I am a woman who has committed many sins and I know that Hell awaits me when it is all over, so I have no qualms about saying what I am about to: I'm glad that Cesare killed Alfonso. I'm glad that all of your husbands, who wronged you so completely, each one of them, met their just rewards at the tip of your beloved brother's blade. Death alone was too good for them all. And now you are free; provided for; and still have the protection of a man who truly loves you; your own blood. He promised me that he would see you to safety and to your peace. I never doubted that he would. He has been as my own rock, my love, doing for you what I never could, and I thank God every day for him._

_I have been tempted, on occasion, to tell your dear brother Gioffre the truth about the two of you; it would ease his mind so. My lovely boy who has become quite the man. He came to visit me just last month—he and Maria de Mila are officially betrothed and will marry in December; they must hurry, you see—Maria is with child! They are both so happy but their happiness is tempered by their worry for you and Cesare. How I long to ease Gioffre's troubled mind, my love. While he does not doubt that Cesare's reason for killing Alfonso was well-founded, he is baffled, for he had never seen Alfonso treat you badly. Well, you and I know how husbands may perpetrate such fraud to a wife's beloved family, but your dear brother is not that sort of man, and so does not recognize such manipulation. The case is such that either I reconcile myself to my vow of silence, or tell him soon, for such a revelation, say, upon my deathbed, would feel as a betrayal to him. And if he knew where you were? He would come and try to find you, I know it, just to give his big sister and big brother his loving hug of relief. It is so hard, dearest, to keep this secret from him. Of course, I really have no choice, now, do I? So keep it I must._

_I am compelled to tell of the events in Ferrara that stemmed from Alfonso's death—the news of his son's death took the last of his vigor and Ercole, within just a few days of the receipt of Alfonso's body, died. Giulio d'Este is the now the reigning Duke! He has taken your cousin, Angela Borgia, as his bride, and within her, now, resides the heir to the duchy. After everything that happened, because of you and Cesare, well, you can imagine that she was not a popular choice for Duchess, but the girl is beyond reproach; and it is well-known that Giulio has been in love with her since they were practically children—he would not be denied. By all accounts he was most underrated by his brothers, and he is proving to be as dignified, comparable and successful a head of state as his father was. Ferrara is all a-twitter over the impending birth, now, and the tide of public consciousness is no longer against Angela. She sent me a very happy letter which also contained soothing words for me and her prayers for you._

_I have had letters, these past months, from Giulia, Pietra and Miracella. La Bella is coming with her family to spend Christmas with me. She heard it all from her brother, of course, and is completely outdone. It is easy to be in the dark in a letter, but I shall have to call upon some considerable acting skills when she arrives, yes?_

_Pietra di Benedetti has had her second child, a girl, and continues to do well with her husband in Nepi. She also sent her prayers out for you._

_Curiously, my letter from Miracella was quite bright. She is doing well in Livorno with Dante; she still designs dresses and childrens clothing and will now have her own little one to dress—she is pregnant with their first child! I continue to receive requests for her designs, but she has grown beyond Rome, it seems—through an amazing instance and by the word of mouth resulting from it, she has garnered a commission from Margaret, the Queen of Scots, no less, to produce a collection of her fine and unique chemises. I am quite happy for her, but was a touch put off by her letter. She had heard about your plight, and to be honest, I had expected more heartbreak from her, you had both become so close and Rodrigo was as her own. I do not mean to impugn or hold her in bad regard, but I was just a bit baffled, I think. I hope that my distress does not cause yours._

_Giuliano della Rovere. What ever is there to say about him? It was an embarrassment of the highest magnitude for him, that Cesare escaped his grasp, but even he appears, finally, to be moving on. I do not view him as the Pope, at all, actually. He commits every crime he ever accused your father of, even as he takes credit for and expounds upon all of your father's positive accomplishments. It is galling._

_He has now married his Felice off to one of the Orsini and betrothed his niece to the Colonna—politics as usual here, my love. At least I have my peace from him—he has long forgotten me, thank God._

_Speaking of Felice, she has found true love. Not with her husband—he is an old Roman windbag—the only good thing about him is that the marriage allowed her to remain in Rome. No, you will be surprised to know that she and Cardinal Ascanio Sforza call each other soul mates and that their love blossomed sometime just after her father took the Papal Throne. They each had the equal and fearless talent of calling the monster out on his bad behavior, whenever the need arose, which was often, and it became their first bond. They are a lovely couple and I am happy for them both. Ascanio left Rome for a time and came back to his post after the worst of Giuliano's insane lust for vengeance finally cooled. He demanded a new post, but Giuliano refused to relinquish him as Vice-Chancellor._

_Oh, Lucrezia, what would I have done without Ascanio and Felice after your father's death? I owe them both so much. Quite often I happily host them here, where they may be seen together under no suspicion and very safe cover, amongst my other guests—dignitaries, artists, musicians—the best and the brightest movers and thinkers in Rome. And then, late in the night, after everyone is full of wine and good will, they steal away in secret to one of my rooms. You know how I love secrets, my love._

_But you are my biggest, and best-kept secret, my love. I often wish for a letter, seeming as if from a stranger—some wonderful assumed name that you've dreamed up, bearing a greeting in your own familiar hand, telling a tale of supreme and complete happiness. I know that will not happen, that it can never be risked, and I do not indulge that wish very often for I do not wish to become melancholy, within myself or in my happiness for you..._

_There is so much more that I would tell you, but then this letter would never end; my memories are young and fresh, but my hand is old and tired. So I will save the rest for the next letter. Theo is here visiting and I know that, if he could, he would send his love to you. So I will say goodbye for now, until next time. Kiss my precious babies, Giovanni and Rodrigo; and Cesare, and Micheletto, if he is there and you dare to hold him down for it. I miss you all; I love you all madly; I rejoice that you are together._

_"...I prayed one word; I want._

_Someone, I tell you, will remember us,_

_Even in another time..."_

_Ever and all of my love,_

_Mama,_

_Giovanna de Candia, Contessa dei Cattanei_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is almost sunset, on the day that Lucrezia's letter might have arrived in Santo Domingo; Vannozza holds it to her bosom as she stands at the balcony door of her bedroom looking out upon the magnificent Italian sunset; it is a letter that she will never send, but it has been cathartic to write and imagine its journey to her daughter, so far away from her. Her melancholy does almost overtake her, but she refuses to relinquish herself to it; she walks over to the waiting hearth, gives a kiss to the parchment and then tosses it into the fire; she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and envisions the faces of her babies as she remembers them, and then tears herself away from the fire and goes back to the balcony door.

Below her, on the next floor down, her palazzo is bristling with activity; she has chosen that night to host her banquet because she knew that she would need the distraction at the end of that particular day. As she looks out over Rome, gently stroking her locket from Michelangelo, she thinks of the one whose picture is contained within and smiles as she looks out over the horizon; she thinks about Cesare and Lucrezia and wonders where they really are, for the questions raised upon the page nowhere near match the questions raging in her mind. Still, even with that, she is relieved to think of them having safely escaped Italy, alive and free, and hopes that they are happy.

Vannozza takes another deep breath and wipes away a tear, then goes to join Theo and her guests down below.


End file.
